Breaking the Stone
by Harikari
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break. Slash. Rated for language and mild violence.
1. Part One

**Title:** Breaking the Stone  
**Author:** Harikari  
**Pairing:** Ron/Draco  
**Rating:** Hard PG-13  
**Summary:** Draco, Ron and their misadventures during Winter Break.  
**Warnings:** Strong language, violence, written before the release of OotP, alternate events, eventual slash.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own em'. No copyright infringement is intended. I wrote this fic for fun, not profit.  
**AN:** My first fanfic. Feedback is very welcome. This is the first story in the State of the Stone Trilogy.

-----Part One

Ron Weasley sat leaning against a dead tree, watching as the sleds that were carrying those students lucky enough to be going home for the holidays sped across the frozen, snow covered lake and faded from sight. For the first time in five years, Harry was on one of those sleds. Rather than, as usual, being stuck at Hogwarts while the Dursleys celebrated their Christmas countless miles away the Boy Who Lived was off to visit his godfather, Sirius.

Harry had been excited. His friends ought to have been excited for him.

A little too forcefully, Ron tore open a small and funny-shaped box. He grabbed at the Chocolate Frog inside of the box before it could hop away and took a bite. "Some kinda' friend I am," the redhead managed through his teeth. The candy frog's legs were still kicking as he chewed. "But who _wouldn't _feel this way? I've got no one to hang out with for over two whole weeks!"

It was true. Ron had no one. Harry was gone, Hermione was with her dentist parents as usual. He didn't even have is annoying twin brothers, Fred and George, to keep him busy over Winter Break. Who would've thought those two would actually ever make a friend crazy enough to invite _them _over for break?

Finally swallowing, Ron shock his head and absently crushed the Chocolate Frog box in his hand. "Fifth year sucks." And it did. There had been no Tri-Wizard tournament, no Harry coming over for the summer before school had started, no unusual series of events that would eventually lead to foiling yet another evil plot. Nothing at all. Even keeping track of Quidditch didn't seem as fun. And when it came to Ron Weasley, that was saying something.

"All right there?" Ron jumped, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. "Oh. Did I scare you? Sorry."

It was Ginny. She giggled at the sight of her older brother wide eyed and panicky, before composing herself and squatting down beside him. "Mum an' dad sent Errol with some mail this morning. Just a letter." She stopped to stare at his clenched hand. "Got anymore of those frog things for me and Harvey?"

Ron blinked. "Harvey?"

There was a sudden pink tinge to Ginny's cheeks. "Never mind. Doesn't look like you have anymore. Anyway, mum and dad said in the letter that they've decided not to go to Romania, after all. Charlie had some sort of dragon emergency to take care of. They thought we might like to go home but -"

"What!" shouted Ron, eyes bulging. "And you didn't tell me this until just _now_? The sleds have already _left_, Ginny! The _train _is leaving soon! How are we supposed to get home?"

The redheaded fourth year glared. "It's not as if I've had the letter for weeks, Ron. You know how slow Errol can be. It wasn't mum or dad's fault either."

"You couldn't have told me this _morning_?" asked Ron.

Looking furious (this was something that had been occuring more often as Ginny got older), the girl stood and brushed away the snow that had managed to accumulate at the bottom of her robes. They were fairly new robes, seeing as how she was the only girl in the Weasley family and couldn't fit into her brother's things, and she was extremely careful with them. "Listen. I searched for you all morning, _all _over campus. I even asked Filch where he thought you might be. _Filch_! I wasted a big part of the day looking for you, Ron, and all I got when I found you was told off." Again, she brushed at her robes. "And a spot of mud on my clothes!" With that, she turned and walked away.

Fuming himself and thinking fondly of the train he could've been heading home on, Ron uncrumpled the Chocolate Frog box in his hand and looked down at it dully. He was about to crush it again, out of anger and nervousness, when he realized just what it was he was staring at.

In elaborate, golden letters what was left of the collectable wizard card inside of the small box read: AGRIPPA THE WITCH. Sometime during his third year Ron had almost completely given up on collecting cards and on pointedly buying candy frogs in _order_ to collect. He'd done this because he had almost all of them anyway, and the few cards he did need had long failed to show up. Still, over the previous two years the redhead had managed to acquire all but two cards by simply glancing inside of the few Chocolate Frog boxes he _did _happen to cross paths with. One of those very elusive cards was of Ptolemy, the other was of Agrippa. Agrippa the witch.

"Bugger."

Running slender fingers over the remnants of the Agrippa card, Ron decided it might not be a hopeless case and stuffed the crinkled mess into his pocket. "I can't believe I ruined a rare card," he muttered - a full moment before realizing that he'd also ruined any chance of hanging around with Ginny over break. She'd been such a grump lately. It would be a while before she cooled down. "She'll probably be too busy hanging around with _Harvey_, anyhow. Whoever that is."

Standing, Ron stretched and mulled over his problems for a bit before deciding that there was nothing he could really do about them. Satisfied with that decision, Ron noted the darkening sky and headed for Hagrid's hut. At least he'd have someone to talk to for a while. Even if it _did_ mean enduring some horrible cooking and a huge boarhound licking at his face.


	2. Part Two

-----Part Two

Draco Malfoy was bored.

He was in the Slytherin common room, sitting pretzel style in front of the huge fireplace and tearing harshly at a piece of paper. He tore it slowly. Shred by slow shred. And, shred by shred, he threw the paper into the fireplace. He watched as the pieces blackened; watched as they turned quickly to ashes. Once he'd thrown the last bit into the fire and had watched it disintegrate, he let out a frustrated growl.

"What in the hell do they expect me to _do_ here?" he asked, his eyes roaming all over the deserted common room. The 'they' he was referring to were his parents, who had sent him a letter two weeks prior explaining that he couldn't go home this Christmas. Something about an aunt who had fallen ill. "Sick aunt my arse." Draco knew his parents all too well - he knew what the message was _behind _the letter. He wasn't an idiot. He knew his parents, he knew his father. And he knew that their sudden and unexpected trip to a sick relative's house wasn't a trip to a sick relative's house at all. No. Him not being able to go home this Christmas, his parent's sudden away time - it all had something to do with Voldemort.

"I'm cold," said Draco aloud, just to break the silence. Then he realized it was true. He was cold. Really cold. The stone walls of the Slytherin's living quarters seemed to catch the freezing winter air and hold it. He was sitting inside of a virtual icebox.

Standing, the blond sprinted up to the fifth year boy's dormitory to grab a jacket. Coming back down, he slipped on his heavy winter coat and on a whim, stepped out into the chilly corridor.

Even though it was break, and even though school was technically out, Filch and the professors would still lose their heads if they caught any students running around campus after curfew. Draco knew that night was already upon Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure _exactly _what time it was. All he could really do was hope not to get caught.

He snorted. The cold must've been getting to his brain or something. What was he _thinking_? He felt like going for a walk. Maybe a late walk. It didn't _matter _if he got caught or not. It didn't matter one freaking bit.

He was Draco Malfoy. And Draco Malfoy did what he _wanted_ to do. Bugger the consequences.

-----

Ron's robes were soaked. The snow that had gotten on his robes while he'd been sitting had penetrated cloth and skin and had reached (or so it seemed) bone. He was shivering as he walked, fists clenched and squinting eyes fixed firmly on the not-so-distant warm, yellow light that was Hagrid's hut.

In only the small amount of time it had taken him to walk thus far the color of the sky had shifted from an early evening gray to a foreboding black. The only thing that was keeping the fifth year from falling flat on his face due to disorientation was the moonlight, and the aforementioned yellow light.

_I'm breaking school rules_, thought Ron absently. He hadn't realized it until just then. No student was supposed to be outside after dark. Especially when the student happened to be a known meddler at Hogwarts. Oh well. Hagrid wouldn't say anything about it and even if Ron was caught out, what would really be done to him? He was a known rule breaker yes, but he was a rule breaker that had helped save the school (and perhaps even the _world_) a few times, too.

Limbs numb and freckled face more red than usual, Ron reached the hut. He took a moment to stamp the snow from his shoes before he proceeded to knock at the door.

Or at least, he had _planned _to knock at the door. Instead, just before his clenched fist could meet splintered wood, a hand came out of nowhere, grabbed at his arm and pulled him into the bushes.

"What the-" Ron began, quite loudly, before the same hand that had grabbed him promptly covered his mouth.

_Ohno. Ohno. Ohno._ The redhead was panicking. It seemed the unusual series of events that had become an annual tradition at Hogwarts was finally beginning. Beginning with _him_ being kidnaped. Wonderful.

For a moment flashes of familiar images assaulted Ron. He could remember his third year, he could remember being pulled into the dark forest, he could remember the sick snap of his leg breaking...

"Shut up Weasel. You're gonna' get us caught." The whisper snapped Ron back to reality. The hand over his mouth disappeared. The fifth year caught his breath, turned his head. Cold, gray eyes glared at him through the darkness.

Draco Malfoy's cold, gray eyes.


	3. Part Three

-----Part Three

Of all the situations Draco thought he might end up in when he'd stepped out of the Slytherin common room and into the deathly cold corridor, crouching behind a bunch of oversized bushes, his archenemy beside him, was not one of them.

Ron, after recovering from the initial shock of being assaulted, turned. Quickly, the realization of just who it was he was looking at came and the redhead's surprise changed to anger. "What in the hell are _you_ doing here?" Ron didn't yell this but whispered it, perhaps not fond of the idea that his mouth might have a chance to get acquainted with Draco's pale and freezing hand. Again.

_What the hell _am_ I doing here? _Draco wondered, pulling the jacket he wore tighter around his slim yet muscled frame.

He hadn't meant to come to Hagrid's. After leaving his House he'd wandered around the huge palace that was Hogwarts, dodging professors (he'd had a close call with Flitwick) and peeking into rooms he thought might be restricted. He'd found nothing interesting, and the bumbling groundskeeper had come to mind. _It's not worth the walk_, he'd tried to reason with himself, but before that internal debate could be won Draco had found himself standing in front of Hagrid's hut, ready to play some pranks.

"Well?" Ron was shivering, a scowl marring his face.

"Well what?" Draco said this in a tone that implied he really didn't care to know _what_ the Weasley was asking.

"I said what are you doing here?" He paused, looking cynical. "You're here to pick on Hagrid." It wasn't a question. "Prat."

Draco refrained from beating the crap out of the boy. Barely.

"Just sit there and shut up, Weasel. Dumbledork is in there with your giant friend. I don't wanna' get caught."

"Dumbledore?" Ron's eyes got wide. "Then why did you stop _me_ from knocking?"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Gee, I was just dying for your company. Why do you think? Dumbledore catches you, most likely he catches the bloke hiding in the bushes not three feet away. Common sense." Draco grinned. "Why? Did you think that I _cared_?"

"Shut your trap, Malfoy," muttered Ron. He punched the pale boy in the shoulder.

"Hey." Draco rubbed at the abused appendage. "You're pushing your luck, red. Remind me to kick your arse when we leave here.

"You can try," growled Ron. There seemed to be movement inside of the little abode, and they both grew quiet.

As hard as it was, Ron had to admit that it would be incredibly difficult if not impossible for him to kick Draco's arse. He might have been able to manage it the year prior or the years before that, when he'd towered over most of his class. Now though, Draco stood a noticeable amount of inches taller than Ron and had managed to add a fair bit of muscle to his bones. And that was only when it came to fist fighting. Ron didn't even want to _think _about what Draco might be able to do to him when it came to wands.

Inside, they could hear Hagrid asking Dumbeldore if he'd like another cup of tea. Ron felt extremely cold, and despite this, his eyes were drooping. Draco tried to make himself comfortable on the hard ground and wondered how late it was.

"I should've checked the time," he muttered, and the two continued to wait.

-----

Ron didn't exactly wake up toasty, but he _did_ wake up rather warm. _My robes must've dried_. He was lying down pressed up against something soft and...wait. Was that an arm? Without opening his eyes, the young wizard tried to discern just why there was an arm wrapped around his midriff. His sleep mussed brain could recall being quite angry about being left behind by his two best friends for Winter Break. He could remember the argument with Ginny and walking to Hagrid's cabin but-

"Thank you for the tea, Hagrid. And don't get too worried. I just thought we should keep an eye on him." Ron jumped. The voice was close. And it was Dumbledore's voice.

Dumbledore? _Now_ Ron knew were he was. He had been grabbed by Draco and they'd been hiding out, waiting for the ever perceptive (not to mention frighteningly magical) Headmaster to leave Hagrid's hut. Although now that Ron thought about it he wasn't sure if that particular strategy was the best one to go by. Sure, they might've gotten caught making a break for it. But Dumbledore hadn't noticed Ron when he was about to knock on the door... No, staying _close _to the scene of the crime definitely wasn't a good idea. He would have to remember to berate Malfoy for that decision later.

"Right, sir. Two eyes," came Hagrid's gruff voice, just as the redhead realized that it was actually the aforementioned platinum-haired teen's arm that was thrown casually around his middle. Ron held back not only a scream, but a stream of surprised curses. He wanted to throw that arm off and he wanted to pulverize Draco. Unfortunately, he couldn't do either of those things. The Headmaster and groundskeeper were still chatting and (judging by the steady breath that was brushing Ron's neck) Draco was still asleep. That last one wouldn't usually matter except, somehow, Ron doubted that Malfoy would keep quiet if he woke to a certain Weasley brother beating the crap out of him.

"Have a good night."

"Good night." There was a creaking sound and Hagrid's door shut. A loud crunching sound could be heard as the old Headmaster battled his way through the fallen snow, and toward the castle. Ron waited...waited...waited. And then took a breath.

"What do you think you're doing!" The cry sounded in two voices. Just as Ron had pushed the arm away, Draco had pulled it away. Both of them had a disgusted look on their face.

"What are you, _gay_?" Gray eyes looked accusingly at Ron.

Ron bristled. _As if _I_ was the one who initiated the...the spooning!_ "You're the one who had your arm around me!" Hagrid could be heard shuffling around in his cabin - presumably readying for bed. The hut went suddenly dark.

The blond snorted, brushed himself off and stood. "_You_ probably put my arm there. I always knew you were strange Weasel. But I never knew you were strange _that_ way." Sneering, he turned and started walking.

"Stupid jerk," mumbled Ron to himself. "He knows I'm not _that_ way." The fifth year snorted disbelievingly, paused, and then sprinted after his rival.

"I'm not, uh, gay. You know that right?" Draco ignored him, so he pressed on. "I like Hermione. At least, I think I like her. She's really pretty." There. He'd even _named_ the girl he liked. Emphasis on girl.

"Go away."

"Hey, so you were awake the whole time weren't you? Why didn't _you_ pull away? I didn't pull away because I thought you were asleep." Malfoy didn't answer. It was obvious he wasn't in the mood for talking. At least not about this particular subject. Of course, Ron remembered, they _were_ mortal enemies. That might have something to do with Draco's aloofness.

They walked on, their feet making the same loud crunch Dumbledore's feet had. "Did you hear what they said?" A change of subject might work. "Dumbledore and Hagrid said something about keeping an eye on someone. Who do you think they meant?"

No reply.

"Draco?"

Still no reply.

Ron blew up. He had tried to be nice and start a conversation even _after_ those rude accusations. Draco had ignored him outright. "I bet I know who they were talking about," he said coolly. "They were talking about you, seeing as how your father is a follower of-"

BAM.

A fist to the stomach, of all places, cut Ron off before he could finish. He let out an _umph_, gasped for breath. Draco pulled his arm back, got ready to punch again. Then for no apparent reason, he stopped. "Go to hell, Weasel." They'd reached the castle. He jogged away.

Ron coughed, finally catching his breath. He straightened his robes and, remembering his first thought when he'd woken up, realized they weren't dry at all. He'd just been warm because Malfoy had been there. Spooning him. Ron cringed.

For Merlin's sake, he'd gotten _warm_ with Draco.


	4. Part Four

-----Part Four

_What just happened?_

After leaving Ron standing in front of the castle coughing and sputtering, Draco sprinted his way back to the Slytherin House, heedless of the fact that he might get caught by a professor.

"Snake eyes," he mumbled, and the stone entrance slid open to reveal a welcoming fireplace and a much needed couch. Dropping onto the couch, the blond tried to make sense of things.

He'd gone out on a walk, not the least bit concerned if he'd be caught or not by some wandering professor. He'd ended up outside of Hagrid's hiding so that he _wouldn't_ be caught by the Headmaster. Ron had come along, ready to knock on Hagrid's door, and Malfoy had helped him. He'd _helped_ a Weasley. No - it just didn't sound right.

And, unfortunately, that wasn't all. Draco was too unlucky for that to be _all_. It wasn't bad enough he'd helped Ron so he wouldn't get into trouble. Oh no. He'd ended up _cuddling_ with the redheaded Weasel. Cuddling!

And _still_ that wasn't all. What could be worse than snuggling up with his adversary? Well, Draco had actually_ initiated _the cuddle. After he'd grabbed Ron, and had argued with him for a while, they had both become silent. Minute after minute had passed. The two teens had begun to drift. Ron was the first to fall asleep.

_It's really cold_, Draco had thought while at the same time studying Weasley with sleepy eyes. The boys red hair was windblown and messy. His cheeks were scarlet from the cold and he was sleeping on the ground, on his side in an almost fetal position. _Really, really cold_. Draco had stared some more at the Gryffindor. _I could freeze to death_.

Things had gone downhill from there.

"What was I thinking?" No. He _hadn't_ been thinking. That was the problem. His brain had been damaged and slow due to the cold. The young wizard groaned.

_On the bright side_, he thought, _I gave Weasley a pretty good punch to the gut_. That was a plus. A _huge_ plus.

After a moment of moaning and going over the problem in his head, Draco sat up. Maybe things weren't so bad. Meeting up with the Weasel, in fact, could possibly be considered a blessing. Now that he knew the redhead was spending Winter Break at Hogwarts he'd be able to bother and abuse the redhead to his heart's content. Weasley was the solution to Malfoy's impending boredom.

Of course, he couldn't just _forget_ about the unfortunate spooning incident. It had happened, even if it hadn't been directly his fault.

_It was just the cold_, Malfoy assured himself, before heading to bed. It was already late, and he wanted to be at his best (or was it worst?) the following day. _The cold did something to my brain_.

-----

_He glared at me_.

The library smelt of dust. Ron was sitting at one of the numerous wooden tables, hunched over the bits and pieces of what had once been a collectable wizard card. He was biting his lip in concentration, and the warm sun (which was quickly melting the snow outside) was coming in through the curtainless windows, aimed right at his back. He'd glanced up only a moment ago, at the table where his still peeved little sister was sitting, only to see that the boy who was sitting with her (Ron assumed this was Harvey) was staring straight at him. No. Staring wasn't the right word. Harvey had been _glaring_.

Thinking that perhaps he was imagining things or that the fourth year (who looked a bit too much like one Harry Potter for Ron's liking) was simply looking at the window beyond him, squinting into the sun, he'd looked away and had gotten back to work. What did it matter if Harvey had glared, anyway? The redhead had more important things to worry about. Like, for example, putting the Agrippa card back together.

"Reparo," said Ron, quietly yet forcefully, as he waved the wand gripped in his right hand in the required way. Briefly, the wand emitted purple sparks. And the card lay on the table, as shredded as ever.

What was he doing wrong? "I know this stuff." Or, at least he _should've_ known it. He'd learned the repair trick back during his first year. Perhaps the spell would've worked if he hadn't of had the card in his pocket all night. It had just been crinkled initially. Now it was mangled. Then again, there might've been other explanations as to why the spell wasn't working. Maybe collectible wizard cards had some anti-fixing charm cast on them or something.

"Stupid Weasel, those things have an anti-fixing charm cast on them."

"Huh?" Ron looked up. It was Draco. He was dressed in normal clothes (his robes were noticeably absent), and that ever present smart-ass sneer was on his face. "Oh, it's _you_." The redhead's stomach was still vaguely sore.

Draco reached over and grabbed one of the bigger chunks of the torn up card before taking a seat across from the Gryffindor. "Oh _please_, Weasley. The game is up. I know how you feel about me. You don't have to act anymore." He'd managed to keep a straight face while saying this. "You collect these things?"

Ron tried to grab for the stolen piece of card, but the blond pulled it out of reach. "Just shut up about that. It's old already." Draco didn't seem to have his wand at the ready. Perhaps he could turn the pale-skinned teen into a slug. No, wait, Ron didn't want to think about slugs.

"You mean shut up about the gay thing?" Ron gasped, panicked, and looked up to check if Ginny or her friend (who were the only other students in the library) had heard. They hadn't. They were laughing away, making suggestive eyes at each other, and seemed to be getting ready to leave the library. _He better not be planning on snogging my sister_.

"I just want you to know," announced Malfoy seriously, "that this won't change a thing between us. I still hate you and will wake up every morning anxious to kick your-"

Grabbing back his property from the unsuspecting Draco, Ron swept up the rest of the card and stuck the pieces into his pocket. "Someone will hear. You don't want an even _worse_ reputation, do you?"

The Slytherin feigned ignorance. "I've got a bad reputation?" With one last angry look, Ron turned to go. He didn't particularly feel like being around the jerk of a fifth year, especially after what had happened the night before. They were supposed to be enemies, anyway.

Ron might be looking forward to a lonely Winter Break, but there was no way he'd ever be so desperate as to take on Draco as his new friend.

"You know," said Draco casually, "I've got an Agrippa card." That stopped Weasley in his tracks. "And I'd be willing to give you the card, too."

The redhead turned, hesitant and guarded. "Yeah?"

Malfoy was smiling. That was never good. "Yeah." He paused, perhaps trying to be dramatic. "For a price."


	5. Part Five

-----Part Five

Ron loved Quidditch. His older brother had been a star player at Hogwarts, his best friend was in the record books as being the youngest seeker ever, and the walls of his small room at home were covered with posters of his favorite professional team. Yes, Ron Weasley considered himself to be one of the biggest fans ever of the sport of Quidditch.

"Why, of all the 'prices' you could've come up with, did you insist we play this lousy game?" Okay, so maybe he wasn't _that_ huge of a fan. Especially when he was being forced to play.

"Do you want the card or not?" Draco was walking slightly ahead of him, his dark and sleek Nimbus 2001 at hand.  
_  
Of course I want the card_, Ron thought, looking doubtfully at the splintery school broom he held. _I'm just not willing to get _killed _for it_. And that's exactly what was going to happen. Why else would Malfoy want to play a game of Quidditch with him? The blond was a decent seeker with an awesome broom. Ron Weasley was a bloke who hadn't been able to make the Gryffindor team as of yet, and who didn't even _have_ a broom of his own. Draco wanted to slaughter the redhead.

They reached the Quidditch field. What was vibrant, green grass in the summer was currently sad, brown nothingness with a few unmelted patches of snow scattered around. "Forget this," announced Ron, just as Draco was climbing onto his broom. "I don't want some card _this_ bad. I don't even know if you really have the card. I'm going back to the library." He turned, set on fumbling his way to the Quidditch supplies shack and returning the broom.

"Notice how I didn't bring the game balls?" Draco said this as if he hadn't heard a word of Ron's proclamation and pulled something from his pocket. "I figured we could play a little differently."

Ron was walking away, gritting his teeth. "I _said_ I'm going."

"See, I just need a little flying practice. I'll just fly around with these cards and you try to grab em' from me. It'll help with my dodging skills and all. And, as soon as you actually _grab_ the cards, you're done."

The redhead stopped, but didn't turn around. "Cards? As in, plural?"

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, I've got Agrippa and some wizard called Ptolemy. I don't collect these stupid things so I thought I'd let you get them both. But, if you don't want-"

Ron got on the school broom. "Deal!" What luck. The platinum-haired teen had no idea how rare the two cards he had were. Getting knocked around by Draco was no problem. No problem at all, if he was getting the completion of his collection out of it. "Let's go."

-----

"Let's go," shouted Ron, kicking up into the sky. Draco smiled. He wasn't an idiot. He knew how rare the two cards were. Not that he'd lied about not collecting cards, or anything. It was Crabbe and Goyle who were always going on and on about the things. After seeing Weasley brooding over the remnants of his Agrippa card, all it had taken was a trip to the Slytherin dorms and a rummage through Crabbe and Goyle's left behind property. Next thing he knew, he was walking out of the Hogwarts castle with his Nimbus in his hand, two rare cards in his pocket, and Ron wrapped around his little finger.

_What a piece of cake_, he thought, finally darting into the sky. Not that he _liked _the idea of stealing from his housemates. There just hadn't been any alternative. He'd do anything to jerk the weasel around.

They started the game. And it was too easy. Draco enjoyed himself. He waved the two cards around tauntingly, dashing about the field while the out of practice Gryffindor tried desperately to catch him, mumbling curses all the time.

Malfoy suddenly stopped. He laughed cruelly, then proceeded to make a show of being bored. "Hell weasel, I thought it'd be a little more challenging than this. I don't know if this is even _worth_ two crappy cards." At these words, Ron seemed to grow more determined. He sped up, aiming for Draco. His eyes were glued to the two little cards with the golden letters. The blond teen flitted out of the way just in time, leaving his rival furious. "Ha!"

Draco continued to grin viciously, and continued to easily outrun the huffing Ron. He was having entirely too much fun for his own good.

It didn't last long.

"Oh _come_ on. You're joking, right? You don't suck _this_ much at flying!" The fifth year Slytherin could see that Ron was holding back an insult, perhaps afraid the deal would be jeopardized. Draco smiled, opened his mouth to say something else, then quickly snapped it shut. He looked down at his broom. Had it just...jerked?

"Ahh!" He yelled, gripped his broom, and was suddenly upside down. What was going on? His oh so expensive flying contraption began to shake. He held on tightly.

Ron was laughing. "Who doesn't know how to fly _now_?" He pointed his broom in the direction of his rival before growing serious. "Hey!" Draco's pale hands were holding onto the Nimbus in a vise like fashion. Somewhere in the midst of that vise were the cards. "No. You're messing up the- " But before he could finish, Malfoy's broom shot straight toward the redhead.

Ron had no time to dodge. Both boys braced for impact. Draco was still upside down. They hit, and fell to the ground.

-----

After a moment of catching his breath, Ron opened his eyes. "Ouch. That hurt." Next to him, he heard a snort.

"You think?"

Weasley frowned. Obviously, Draco was okay. "Why did you do that? You messed up the cards _and_ we practically broke our necks. Was this your brilliant plan? Was this why you wanted me to play Quidditch with you?" Nudging Draco's legs off of his own (they were in quite a tangle), Ron stood and made sure nothing was broken. "You're such an asshole."

Rubbing at a sore shoulder, the blond also stood. "It wasn't me. It was...my broom, I guess. It just started acting strange." He looked, of all things, honest.

"Acting strange?" Ron was remembering Harry's episode with a cursed broom during first year and was about to tell Draco he was a rotten liar, when he spotted the cloaked and hooded figure. The figure was garbed in all black, and seemed to be staring right at them. "Uh, who is that?"

"Who is who?" Following Ron's stare, Malfoy also spotted the odd entity that was standing on the other side of the field, unmoving. "Hey! That must be the SOB that messed up my broom!" He turned and started running. The figure bolted. Ron followed them both.  
_  
I know what this is. I know what this is. _The redhead was panicking. Freaky people dressed in black? Cursed Quidditch games? This was all too familiar.

The entity, whoever or _whatever_ it was, had gotten too much of a head start. Not even Draco could keep up with it. It disappeared into the forest. That damned scary _forbidden _forest. Malfoy reached the edge of the wooded area, seemed to be trying to determine which way the 'SOB' had gone and then simply plopped to the ground, exhausted. "Damn."

Ron, panting harshly, reached him moments later. "Hey," the redhead prompted, kneeling next to Draco. The blond didn't answer for a moment, but caught his breath first.

"Yeah, what?" Malfoy _wasn't_ in the best of moods.

"You know how I asked you last night about who you thought Dumbledore and Hagrid might be 'keeping an eye on'?"

Draco eyed him skeptically. "Yeah, so?"

"So I think we just met that person. And that person, whoever it is, has a problem with us."

Draco snorted. "Where's Harry bloody Potter when you need him?"


	6. Part Six

-----Part Six

Another storm was coming. Thick clouds hid the stars and moon. Even the dining hall's enchanted ceiling didn't seem quite as brilliant as usual.

It was already the first weekend of Winter Break. Saturday night, to be exact. Draco Malfoy was sitting alone, picking at his food and shooting occasional glares in the general direction of the Gryffindor table. No one was actually sitting at the table just then, but it didn't hurt to keep in practice.

The fifth year Slytherin hadn't associated with Ron, his rival, since the Quidditch incident. The redhead had been rather hurt when, realizing they would never catch the dark robed entity, the two teens had strolled back to their fallen brooms only to find them alongside a couple of horribly crumpled Wizard Cards. Yes, Draco had endured quite a few of Ron's killer looks this week.

"It wasn't _my_ fault," he gritted out. And, besides, why should he care if the Weasel was angry? That's right, they were _enemies_. He shouldn't care. "Stupid Weasley."

"Excuse me?" It was Flitwick. The little Professor had been touching up the huge, decorated tree that dominated the hall and was now standing beside Draco, giving him a puzzled look.

The blond dropped his fork. "Uh, nothing."

After a pause, the Charms teacher regained his default smile. "Well, better get off to bed, Mr. Malfoy. You don't want to get in trouble." He turned, heading for the exit. "Just finish your dinner, and then off to your House."

"Right," said Draco, grabbing the last bit of food on his plate (a slice of bread) and sticking it into his mouth. The plate instantly disappeared. " 'Night," he said, feigning politeness, but the Professor was already gone.

Standing, the platinum haired teen left the dining hall and headed for his House. He did somewhat feel like a walk. All of the energy he usually used up picking at Harry or bossing around Crabbe and Goyle was still in him, running through his veins and preventing sleep. But he wouldn't go for a walk. Not after having to hide out with his enemy for a matter of hours. Not after the cuddling. No. Walks were trouble.

_Maybe the walk to my dorm will be enough to burn the energy_. Draco doubted his own thoughts. He did an _awful_ lot of bugging and bossing around.

-----

For the last two hours Ron had kept busy playing chess with John, a first year, and the only other Gryffindor (besides the pissed off Ginny) who had stayed for break. He'd won (of course), and had had a good enough time playing. Now, however, John was tucked away in his dorm and Ron's stomach was growling. That's right. While totally destroying the first year in a game, the Weasley had managed to forget all about dinner.

"This is horrid," said Ron. He was sitting on one of the extremely comfortable chairs in the Gryffindor common room. "I'm _starving_." Unfortunately, he had also skipped lunch. Just in order to avoid that complete prat, Draco. The damned Slytherin had mutilated his cards.

It was cozy and warm in the common room, but through the windows Ron could see that a storm was brewing. He could also see that it was dark outside. Which was, obviously, his problem. Students weren't allowed out of their Houses after dark. He'd broken that rule recently and had ended up cuddling with his enemy, getting his hopes of a complete Wizard Card collection crushed (literally) and meeting up with a freak in a dark robe who had tried to kill him. So all in all, it wouldn't be too smart to ignore the rules again. Not smart at all.

"I'm so hungry." It was hopeless. He was going to starve to death. If only there were some way he could sneak down to the kitchens. He wouldn't take much. Just a snack. Resigned to death by food deprivation, Ron stood and started toward his room. "There just isn't any way. I won't be able to-"

Suddenly, he stopped his muttering, his unseeing eyes on the stairs that would lead to his dorm. He was thinking.

_No_. _I couldn't_. Could he? He was just _so_ hungry and Harry wouldn't mind. At least, Ron didn't think Harry would mind. As long as Ron didn't get caught. And how _could_ he get caught, when what he would be using was Harry's invisibility cloak?

After only a short pause, Ron hurried to look through Harry's trunk.


	7. Part Seven

Breaking The Stone  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.  
  
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship. The characters will most likely be OOC (sorry...). Also, I doubt this will happen when the fifth book comes out, so I guess you'd call it AE, for alternate events. AU seems a bit much. This is my first fanfic. You've been warned. Enjoy, and please review!!  
  
A/N: It took me longer than I thought it would to write this chapter. Sorry for any inconvenience. And I hope you enjoy it. Finally, the slash (however mild) is here.  
  
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break.  
  
Pairing: Draco/Ron  
  
My Thanks: Thanks very much to all the reviewers!  
  
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
During Dinner Saturday Evening-  
  
Harvey Williams hadn't always gone to Hogwarts. First year through third year he had gone to another Wizarding school. A little school, that was nowhere near as popular as Hogwarts, with it's Dumbledore's and Harry Potter's. At the beginning of this year, however, Harvey's parents had somehow gathered enough money for him to attend the legendary establishment. Which was a very good thing, actually, considering the fourth year had been on the brink of getting kicked out of his former school. Harvey was a bit of a troublemaker, if the truth must be told.  
  
"Hey? Hey, are you listening?"  
  
"Huh?" Snapping to reality, Harvey realized that a hand was waving back and forth in front of his eyes. And not just any hand, either. Ginny Weasley's hand. "Oh, sorry." The scarlet haired girl frowned at him, before continuing her passionate monologue.  
  
"Like I was saying," she went on, "Ron is just so weird. He told me off after I'd looked all over for him that day, then I see him hanging around Draco Malfoy, and _now_ he's never around anymore. Not that I'm _worried_ or anything. I'm just curious. But I'm certainly not going to go talk to him because he's a jerk-"   
  
"Are you gonna' eat that?" Harvey reached over and grabbed the desired item of food from Ginny's plate before she could answer.  
  
"Uh..no," she said. He was already chewing. Sighing, the girl realized that her new 'boyfriend' wasn't listening to her. And, at that exact moment, from somewhere within the depths of the castle, a clock struck nine. "Walk me to my dorm?" They'd be in trouble, if they weren't out of sight soon. Harvey nodded, finished his chewing, and they both got up to leave.  
  
"You know, Ginny," Harvey put in, just as the Gryffindor girl noticed the hunched form of Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table. He was glaring at his 'rival-table', and Ginny was thankful she'd sat with Harvey (a Ravenclaw) for this particular dinner. "You've been complaining about that jerk brother of yours all vacation. Does he really bother you that much?"  
  
/Why did Ron hang around with Draco earlier this week anyway?/ Deep in thought, Ginny remembered Ron yelling at her. Then she remembered the library, and the way her brother had kept glancing her way. He'd even looked as if he might be _glaring_. And what was this with Draco? Was Ron replacing Harry with Draco? Doubtful. Ginny guessed the two had been fighting, more than "hanging out", which wasn't a much better alternative, anyway. "Yeah," she answered. "He does bother me that much."  
  
They were outside of the dining hall now, standing near the stairs. Harvey frowned. "It's already nine. Maybe I should get to my own dorm. Will you be okay?" He looked anxious.  
  
"Sure thing," said Ginny, looking distracted.  
  
And the two parted ways.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
/Did I take a wrong turn?/  
  
Draco Malfoy had been coming to Hogwarts for about four and a half years. During that time he'd grown used to the moving stairs, trap doors, and other odds and ends that could keep a student from getting where he wanted. He'd grown used to them, and had learned to overcome these obstacles. Or at least, he _thought_ he'd learned.  
  
It must've been the pictures. As soon as he'd started his trek back to Slytherin House the pictures on the wall had begun to taunt him. They'd made rude gestures at him and had told him he shouldn't be wandering around. Not at this time of night. Draco, annoyed, had stopped quite a few times to make his own rude gestures at the pictures, or to explain that he was _walking_ to his dorm, if they'd just let him get on with it. And now he was lost.  
  
"Like a damn first year," he muttered, stopping for a moment to get his bearings. He was in a corridor that looked vaguely like the dungeons where Snape taught Potions. Damp, cold, and dark. But he _wasn't_ in the dungeons, because there was a huge window to his left, by which he could see the storm now raging outside. "Great." So he knew where he wasn't.  
  
Turning, Draco decided to go back down the stairs he'd come up. At least there were portraits at the bottom. If they weren't in too bad a mood, they could point him the right way.  
  
He hurried down the stairs, the sound of sneakers hitting stone echoing through the castle. "I can't believe I got- Ah!"  
  
Malfoy had screamed. And, for a brief half-second, the Slytherin was thankful that no one was around to hear. But, in the next half-second, he took that back and wished there were someone around, just so he could grab onto something, to keep him from falling.  
  
He'd mis-stepped, and now he was going to tumble down a flight of stairs. Hopelessly, his hands reached out. His left hit nothing but slick wall, and his right grabbed air. _Solid_ air.  
  
Draco fell.  
********************************************************************************  
  
Of all the Professors in the wizarding world, Ron had run into Snape. The potions master was a little too perceptive for the redhead's liking, and, of course, there was the fact that Severus strongly disliked the Harry Potter trio. So when the greasy-haired man came stomping along only moments after he'd exited the Gryffindor common room, Ron booked it.  
  
He started running, forgetting for a moment that the invisible cloak didn't muffle sound. "Who's there," shouted Snape, before hurrying in the direction of the phantom footsteps. Ron didn't want to be caught. He especially didn't want to be caught with Harry's cloak. He continued to run.  
  
/Why me?/ The youngest Weasley brother certainly hadn't had the _best_ vacation so far. Soon enough, the Professor was left far behind, panting for breath. But Ron still didn't stop right away. He wasn't taking any chances. That Snape was tricky.  
  
What must've been a couple of minutes passed. Ron's side was hurting. Finally, he slowed to a jog, then a walk. He caught his breath and found himself climbing a flight of unfamiliar stairs. The storm could be heard outside, so there must've been a window nearby (sound didn't easily leak through thick, stone walls).  
  
"Great." Someone said this, and Ron panicked. But the person was so close. Maybe it would be better to let whoever it was pass on by. Maybe it was one of the House ghosts. The redhead backed up against the right wall, noticing with dread how very narrow this particular stairway was. He waited only a moment, then Draco Malfoy appeared.  
  
/Of all the people!/ Even through his frustration Ron managed to wonder what the blond was doing. Was he looking for the kitchens too? Or starting trouble?  
  
Draco looked upset. Or maybe annoyed was more the word for it. Either way, his full attention wasn't on the task of descending steps, and consequences followed. "I can't believe I got-Ah!" The Slytherin tripped, and was set to fall face first, but his hands reached out as a reflex. And before Ron knew what exactly was happening, he was falling also. Falling right on top of Draco.  
  
"What the hell?"   
  
They landed three steps down from their previous perch. A lot less than what Draco would've fallen if he hadn't of been unintentionally saved. Shaking his head and blinking, Malfoy realized that Ron Weasley was straddling him. And that wasn't even the weirdest thing about this situation.  
  
Ron didn't have part of his left arm, and was completely missing his left leg. The limbs just...weren't there. "Huh?" The dazed redhead didn't have an answer for him, and didn't move. Then, there was a powerful flash of lightning outside that lit up even the narrow little stairway, and Draco could make out a pool of gossamer-like cloth sitting near where Ron's leg should be. He pulled, and the missing limbs were revealed.  
  
"Hey, give that back!" Weasley seemed to have snapped out of his stupor. He grabbed at the cloak, and caught a piece of it. "Let go, Malfoy!" His position gave him a bit of an advantage, and he managed to nearly pull the prize out of Draco's grip before getting shoved. He landed on yet another step, and realized that he was no longer holding Harry's cloak. Draco had it, was standing up, and was examining it carefully.  
  
"Hey Weasel, what the hell is this?" Ron silently thanked any gods that might exist. Draco didn't know what it was, which meant he had a chance at getting it back. If the blond _had_ known what it was, no doubt he would've thrown it on and sprinted off, leaving Ron with nothing but two very angry ex-best friends come the end of Winter Break. "And what are you doing out of bed? You could get in serious trouble."  
  
The fifth year Gryffindor rolled his hands into fists, trying to contain his anger. "You're out of bed too, Draco. And it's none of your business what that is. Give it back."  
  
Malfoy feigned surprise. "None of my business? You nearly kill me by throwing me down a flight of stairs, I see you with parts of your _body_ missing and it's none of my business?"  
  
"That's right." Ron frowned. "And I didn't throw you down anything. _You_ pulled _me_ down."  
  
Draco was ignoring him again, squinting at the cloak in his hand. "Doesn't look like it's worth much. And why should it? It _is_ yours."  
  
It was a well known fact that Ron's temper was short. Especially when it came to insults about his families financial status. "Asshole," he shouted, before charging at Draco. However, the blond was expecting this and darted out of the way, before heading down the stairs.  
  
"Thanks for the invisible cloak," he said, and disappeared from sight.  
  
/He knows? Uh oh./ Ron pulled his wand from its place in his pocket. "Lumos." The darkness yielded a bit, and he followed the Slytherin thief.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
By the time Ron reached the bottom of the stairs Draco must've put on the cloak and gotten a ways off, because there was no one in sight, and only the feint sound of walking. "Get back here," hissed the redhead, quite loudly. It wasn't a matter of running away from Snape anymore. It was a matter of being able to keep his two best friends. Both Hermione and Harry would surely kill him if they came back only to find that Malfoy, of all people, had gotten a hold of Harry's invisible cloak, all thanks to their freckle-faced friend.  
  
There was no reply, so Ron had to strain his ears and follow the sound of Draco's feet. It was hard. Just to throw him off Malfoy would speed up, and then suddenly stop, leaving the Gryffindor confused and afraid he'd lost his prey. Every once in a while Draco would shout out something mean and distasteful. Soon, they'd grown so engrossed in the chase that neither boy noticed how late it was, or the fact that they'd gotten even _more_ lost. If that was possible.  
  
"I've got you!" His wand ready, Ron waited for Malfoy's surrender. They had come to a dead end. No door to a classroom, no branch-off to yet another corridor.... "Now give me back the-"  
  
Someone was talking, and it wasn't Draco. Someone was casting a spell. Ron turned. "You again?" And that was all he had time to say before a bright yellow sphere of light and a couple of purplish sparks hit him in the chest.  
  
********************************************************************************  
"Ron?"  
  
It was warm. Strong arms were wrapped around his chest, and hot energy seemed to be running through his veins. /Spell?/ His mind was muddled and sluggish. /Was I hit by a spell?/ It certainly felt that way. But being assaulted by magic still didn't exclaim the arms.  
  
Ron could tell the arms were muscled, because they were flush against his bare skin. It felt like, maybe, they were wrapped around him from behind. Wait...bare? So he didn't have a shirt on? Why? Oh well. It didn't matter. He was just too tired.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
Things were silent and calm for a moment while the redhead admired the colors that danced behind his eyelids. It would've taken a lot of effort to actually open his eyes. Too much effort. And, besides, he was enjoying the show.  
  
The grip on his chest loosened slightly and what felt like fingertips began to run across his face. The touch was light. Almost hesitant. Ron didn't mind it at all.  
  
Too soon the fingertips went away, and the grip on his chest got tighter. Then, after a pause, something warm and slightly damp touched his cheek. Like lips or something. No, that was impossible. He'd just gotten hit by a spell. A pretty fierce spell judging by the way he felt, but certainly not a _deadly_ spell. Who would be _kissing_ him?  
  
There was movement. The owner of the arms was shifting. There was a pause and then, suddenly, that warm something he'd felt before was on his lips. And it _was_ another pair of lips. Only a slight pressure, and then the kiss was over. Ron forced himself to wake.  
  
"Wha-what?" He found that he couldn't form sentences. His eyes opened and a wave of dizziness overtook him for only a moment. When he recovered, he tried his best to continue. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing much, Weasel. You're just a wimp. Couldn't even take a lousy spell cast by some crackpot dressed in black." Draco let go and shoved the missing sweater into Ron's arms. "That's a nasty mark. I thought you'd died. But, you know, unfortunately you didn't."  
  
The aftershock of the spell was fading, and Ron was starting to get cold. He shakily pulled on the sweater. It was one of those stupid homemade ones that his mother had given him. He'd had nothing else to wear today. "No, that's not what I meant. I kinda' remember that." He scooted away from where he'd been leaning against Draco's chest. He could feel himself shaking. "I meant....what did _you_ do?"  
  
Confusion flashed in Malfoy's eyes, then anger, and finally fear. He shook his head, and plastered on a fake smirk. "What the hell are you talking about, Weasel?" He stood, brushing off the dust that had gathered on his clothes from sitting.  
  
"No, really. Tell me Draco."  
  
Again, fear came to the young wizards eyes. For a second Ron feared that he'd run off without giving an answer. Then, casual as can be, Draco shrugged.  
  
"I kissed you." 


	8. Part Eight

Breaking The Stone  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.  
  
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship. The characters will most likely be OOC (sorry...). Also, I doubt this will happen when the fifth book comes out, so I guess you'd call it AE, for alternate events. AU seems a bit much. This is my first fanfic. You've been warned. Enjoy, and please review!!  
  
A/N: Loooong time since I updated. I'm VERY sorry. Please don't hurt me.... Things heat up and get interesting in the next chapter!  
  
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break.  
  
Pairing: Draco/Ron  
  
My Thanks: Thanks very much to all the reviewers!  
  
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
"I've got you," shouted Ron, sweaty hand gripping his wand and eyes fierce with determination. Draco smirked. This is exactly what he had wanted. Let the little weasel think he had him trapped. Messing with the redhead's mind would be just _that_ much more fun.  
  
"Now give me back the-" Ron stopped talking, and began to turn. For a moment Draco wondered if the Gryffindor had grown tired of playing. Maybe the cloak wasn't so important to him, after all.  
  
"You again?" And then there was a bright flash of light. Ron slumped to the ground. Draco saw the familiar dark figure that had been standing behind the redhead and panicked. He held his breath, closed his eyes, waited for the intense pain of a spell. But it never came.  
  
It took a couple of deep breaths and the sound of fading footsteps before Draco opened his eyes and realized that the freak-in-robes hadn't even seen him. Whoever it was had, apparently, assumed that Ron was all alone.... talking to himself.   
  
"I'm such a damn chicken," muttered Draco, pulling off the cloak. He was abruptly hit with the intense urge to run after their tormentor. First the Quidditch accident, and now this? This. Ron. Malfoy remembered the reason why he couldn't go after that bastard of an entity, and hurried over to the unconscious teen.  
  
"Lumos." Ron didn't _look_ dead. He was breathing as normally as a person who'd just gotten nailed in the chest with a powerful spell should breathe. A slight sheen of sweat was on his brow, and in the unnatural light of the wand he looked utterly pale, while his hair looked more intensely red than ever.  
  
"Ron?" Draco shook the smaller teens shoulder. No response. "Ron?" He shook harder. _Still_ no response. What kind of spell had that been, anyway?  
  
Getting worried despite himself, Malfoy decided to try sitting Ron up. Maybe that would snap him out of whatever funk he'd fallen into. He grabbed the redhead from around the chest and lay Ron against him while he himself leaned against the wall. There had been a catch in Weasley's breath while he'd been doing this: A sign of pain.  
  
"I don't see anything," he muttered softly, trying to get a good look at his ward. Of course, it had been a spell that had hit Ron. Sometimes spells left no physical evidence.  
  
Carefully, Draco rolled up Ron's sleeves. That revealed nothing but pale, flawless skin. He'd gotten hit in the chest. Ron was hurting in the chest. But what the hell was _he_ supposed to do about that?  
  
"Hey, wake up." This time, there was a response. A slim hand tensed before suddenly gripping Draco by his jeans. "Er...Ron?" No. Not _Ron_. Weasel. This was the damned little Weasel brother. He had to remember that. The blond was feeling weird.  
  
Okay, so Ron wasn't waking up. This could be a problem. He could be seriously injured. And what would come of that? A meeting with Dumbledore, having to explain just _why_ they'd been running around the castle so late, and of course, the whole weird guy in dark robes thing would have to come up too. Yeah, getting caught would really suck. That's what he was worried about. Right.  
  
Deciding that he'd rather not go to Madam Pomfrey if he didn't have to, Draco, with some trouble, pulled of the redhead's maroon sweater. Maroon. Damn. What was this family? Obsessed with red?  
  
After pulling off the sweater, for a brief second, Draco couldn't understand why Ron wasn't dead. Then, he realized it probably wasn't as bad as it looked. But it _did_ look damn bad.  
  
Weasley's chest was blue with a giant bruise. In the very center of that bruise was what looked to be a portion of scorched, irritated skin. It was bleeding, but only slightly. This must have been where the main beam of the spell had hit. Seeing all of this, the young wizard tried not to cringe. And failed.  
  
There was silence for a matter of moments. Draco tried to listen to Ron's breathing, and even tried gently shaking the Gryffindor awake again. It didn't work, so he called his name. That didn't work either, so he called Ron's name _again_. Nothing.  
  
/Stupid, weakling weasel. What am I supposed to do now? I'm not gonna' turn myself in just to help _him_./ While thinking this, Draco stared at the young Weasley brother. The memory of he and Ron hiding in the bushes near Hagrid's hut came back, unbidden. Then came the memory of the sleeping Ron; and then, the cuddling. Suddenly, having an injured weasel sitting in his lap didn't seem so bad, and Draco couldn't discern why.  
  
Lightly, the blonde ran his fingertips over Ron's smooth, pale, face. But it wasn't enough. Draco needed contact. Contact with _Weasley_. He blamed it on shock. He was just worried about getting caught. He kissed Ron on the cheek. That still wasn't enough. Draco squirmed around before he was in the right position, and then, without even fully realizing what he was doing, kissed Ron on the lips.  
  
/What did I just do?/ Draco was all set to panic once the brief kiss was broken. He was ready to drop the redhead and run. Ready to _murder_ himself. Ready to murder _Weasley_. But he didn't have time to figure out what he should do first, because his ward opened bleary, unfocused eyes.  
  
"Wha-what?" Ron paused a moment, trying to regain his voice. "What happened?" He looked confused....surprised.  
  
Automatically, Draco went back into jerk-mode. "Nothing much, Weasel. You're just a wimp. Couldn't even take a lousy spell cast by some crackpot dressed in black." The blonde shoved the carmine sweater at the Gryffindor. "That's a nasty mark. I thought you'd died. But, you know, unfortunately you didn't."  
  
Ron eyed him suspiciously while he pulled on the sweater. He was shivering. "No, that's not what I meant. I kinda' remember that." He moved away a little. "I meant....what did _you_ do?"  
  
/Shit./ He knew? That little weasel had been awake? Maybe not. Maybe Ron's mind was so rattled that Draco could play dumb and get away with it. "What the hell are you talking about, Weasel?"  
  
"No, really. Tell me Draco." Ron looked up at the standing Slytherin, genuine confusion in his eyes.  
  
There was a pause. And then, casual as can be, Draco shrugged.   
  
"I kissed you."  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
"It's already nine. Maybe I should get to my own dorm. Will you be okay?"  
  
The two fourth years were standing just outside of the dining hall. Harvey was biting at his bottom lip and shifting from foot to foot. He looked anxious.  
  
Ginny had to think before answering, and not because she wasn't sure if she'd be okay walking to her House alone, but because she was suddenly suspicious. Her new boyfriend had been just fine with the idea of taking her to the Gryffindor's entrance just a moment ago. Harvey _always_ walked her to her House. At least, he _always_ walked her since they'd become a couple. What was up?  
  
"Sure thing," the fourteen-year-old girl finally replied, thinking that maybe she was just overreacting. The Ravenclaw was probably just tired, or afraid of getting caught wandering the castle after dark.  
  
Seemingly from nowhere, thoughts of the red-headed fiend that was her bother filled Ginny's mind, and an idea wiggled its way into her brain.  
  
Yes, this unexpected refusal by the boy to walk her to her House was definitely for the best.  
  
She parted ways with Harvey.  
  
***********************************************************************************  
  
Three little words was all it took for Draco Malfoy to ruin his life forever.  
  
For a moment, the blonde thought about taking it back. He could laugh cruelly and act like it was all just some sick joke. But it wasn't. And, for the first time in a long time, Draco found that he couldn't bring a vicious sneer to his mouth. He couldn't even _speak_. His dark charm and rotten wit weren't going to save him this time, and he didn't know what to do.  
  
Slowly, eyes so wide it was almost comical, Ron stood up. "What?"  
  
"I kissed you," he repeated, hating the sound of it even more the second time around.  
  
Draco was feeling strange. His emotions and hormones were all mixed up. He couldn't help but admit to himself that he'd liked the kiss. He'd _liked_ it. And, at the moment, Ron didn't look too bad either.  
  
The redhead's reaction didn't come quick. For a few moments he stood stock still, looking Draco in the eye. He didn't look mad, didn't look freaked out, didn't look....anything. And the young, platinum-haired wizard wondered if it would be best to just tell Ron what he was feeling. Tell him about the weird thoughts whirling around in his head. Maybe it would be for the best.  
  
"Why the _hell_ did you kiss me?" It was an angry scream, and all thoughts of sharing feelings with redheaded weasels went straight out the window. "Why? I mean....God! Why would you do _that_?"  
  
/Come on Malfoy, think fast./ His mouth opened and, without knowing exactly what he was going to say, he spoke. "Mouth to mouth resuscitation. Did I say kiss? Hell no. What do think I am, gay?" He couldn't tell what Ron was thinking. He plastered a smart-ass smirk on his face. "I'm not _you_, you know."  
  
Weasley's freckled face grew crimson with anger. "Shut up, Malfoy!" The tension passed. Having mostly recovered from the spell (except for that bruise), Ron managed to remember the reason this had all happened. He glanced around before spotting the cloak, discarded on the stone floor. Before Draco could get any ideas, he struggled over and picked it up. "So, mouth to mouth resuscitation, huh?" The silent blonde was freaking him out. What in the hell was wrong with him?  
  
Malfoy glared. "Yes," he spat a little to quickly.  
  
"Oh. Hey...wait a second. Mouth to mouth? That's-"  
  
For the second time that night, Ron was cut off. 


	9. Part Nine

Breaking The Stone  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.  
  
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship. The characters will most likely be OOC (sorry...). Also, I doubt this will happen when the fifth book comes out, so I guess you'd call it AE, for alternate events. AU seems a bit much. This is my first fanfic. You've been warned. Enjoy, and please review!!  
  
A/N: Got this chapter up sooner than I thought I would. Hope you all enjoy it. And if anyone thinks I should up the rating for some reason, just tell me. Thanks!! : )  
  
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break.  
  
Pairing: Draco/Ron  
  
My Thanks: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Sorry for the cliffhanger in the last chapter!  
  
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
"Erm...so, you're all right? Right?"  
  
Ron would kill for a butterbeer.  
  
So far, he'd had a terrible vacation. At the moment his bruise was sore, his head was pounding, and the breakfast that was sitting in front of him, waiting to be eaten, didn't look all that appetizing. This was weird, too, considering the fact that Hogwarts had an exceptional reputation when it came to food. Oh well. Even the best school kitchens had to have their days. It just figured that Ron's bad day would be one of them.  
  
"Hey, are you listening?" Oh yeah. Her. Ginny had been hovering over him for about five minutes now, flashing nervous smiles and trying to get her older brother's attention. It seemed she'd finally gotten over her anger at the little incident that had taken place during that first day. In fact, she'd more than gotten over it. It was now Ron who was mad at her. And with good reason.  
  
The only reply Ginny received from her brother was a glare before he turned back to his horrid looking breakfast. She sighed, tiring of the way he was ignoring her. "Come on, I said I was sorry." No reply.  
  
/It was just a stupid joke,/ she thought, remembering the previous night as she took her leave, going to search for Harvey who'd wandered off once she'd gone to speak with Ron.  
  
/A really stupid joke./  
***********************************************************************  
Ginny Weasley had been heading up to the Gryffindor House, different pranks to play on her older brother dancing in her head (she briefly considered getting a hold of Fred or George) when the staircase she was ascending suddenly gave a loud groan.  
  
/Oh no,/ was all she had a chance to think before gripping the banister. The large set of stairs spun over thin air, wailing loudly all the way until abruptly coming to a stop, now facing a mysterious corridor instead of the familiar way to Gryffindor House. Great. How was she supposed to pull a prank on Ron if she couldn't even _find_ him? Sometimes Ginny really disliked this school.  
  
Realizing that the staircase wasn't planning any return trips any time soon, and that she wouldn't get anywhere without moving, the fourth year gave a great sigh and began walking down the corridor.   
  
/Maybe I should've insisted Harvey walk me,/ the crimson haired girl thought, suddenly not so sure if she'd be okay. She wasn't even sure if she'd been in this part of the castle before. Not that she could see much in the dark, but still.... /I hope I don't get caught. Especially by-/  
  
Ginny had planned to think Snape, but was instead shoved aside by a darkly dressed figure. She was shoved into the wall, and let out a hiss of pain when her shoulder hit stone. "Watch where you're going," said Ginny, assuming that this was a student hurrying to their House. Who else could it be? No professors that she knew of sprinted through castles.  
  
Without even so much as a "sorry", the figure turned a corner, and disappeared from sight. And without even so much as a second thought, Ginny followed. Even if this was a rather rude student, there was a possibility that the student was headed for a House. And even if it wasn't the Gryffindor House (she was sure it wasn't), at least she'd be able to get her bearings. Not solid, but it was the only plan she had.  
  
*******************************************************************************  
  
"I've got you!"   
  
Ginny had been walking for a good while, in silence, and hadn't spotted the dark-robed person who'd run into her. So, when she heard the voice of her brother, she jumped. What was he doing here? Had he gotten misdirected by a shifting staircase too?  
  
Her heart calmed and a grin appeared on her slightly freckled face. What luck! This was an _awesome_ opportunity to get him back. She'd been rather miffed at him for all of Break so far. This was her chance. But who was he talking to? Oh well, that didn't matter.  
  
Catching sight of him (he was at a dead end, his wand pointed at apparently nothing) the Weasley girl concealed herself in the shadows as best she could and tried to remember the words to an old spell Fred had taught her... What was it?  
  
"Tarantallegra," Ginny whispered harshly, aiming her wand's tip at Ron. Seeing him start up a crazy dance, unwillingly and unexpectedly would be great. She just wished she could remember the charm for taking a picture...  
  
Purplish sparks emerged from her wand. "What the-," she could hear her brother say confusedly, before noticing the dark figure from before.   
"You again?" The persons wand shot out a sphere of bright, white light. Both spells hit the teen boy square in the chest, and he fell to the ground.  
  
Ginny stood frozen for a moment. Her heart was beating too quickly and her breath was coming fast. What had just happened? Was Ron okay? What had she done? Something brushed against her. It was the rude student, running away. No. That wasn't right. It wasn't simply a rude student after all.  
  
"I'm such a damn chicken." Huh? Was that _Malfoy's_ voice?  
  
Peaking out from the shadows in which she was hidden Ginny saw the muscled form of Draco Malfoy suddenly appear, as if out of thin air. What the... had the blonde managed to learn an invisibility spell?  
  
"Ron?" As Draco kneeled next to the unconscious redhead Ginny spotted the no-longer-invisible cloak, now pooled on the floor. Well, that certainly explained things. Ginny knew about the cloak, knew it belonged to Harry, and figured that Ron had been trying to retrieve it from the Slytherin before...Before...  
  
/I hope he's okay/. Again, she glanced towards the dead end only to find that her brother was awake and yelling about something or another. Well, at least she knew her brother was okay. Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
/I guess I was in a panic longer than I thought/. That or Ron had only been unconscious for a few moments. Either way, he was safe. And that was all that mattered.  
  
"Yes," Malfoy was saying, and Ginny decided it was about time that she went and checked on her brother for herself. Besides, she was wondering about that Figure In Robes.  
  
"Oh. Hey...wait a second. Mouth to mouth? That's-"  
  
"Are you okay?" She cut Ron off.  
  
Her brother turned, Malfoy got wide-eyed, there was a pause.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
********************************************************************************  
  
It was true that Ginny had revealed herself and had apologized. She could've just run off without ever saying a word, and all blame would've rested with the mysterious entity. But that still wasn't good enough. The point was that she had hit Ron with a spell. And Ron wouldn't just simply forgive her. At least, not until after Winter Break. It was payback time.  
  
"I can't eat this," said Weasley, picking at something that might've been eggs. Ginny had left the Dining Hall a few minutes ago, and he was lonely. Lonely _again_. He was almost starting to envy the thought of school. Almost.  
  
"OUCH, hey!" John, the aforementioned first year who'd played chess with Ron the night before, and who was now sitting semi-close to the redhead while eating, let out this cry and aimed a mean glare at the cause of it: Draco Malfoy. Then, realizing who it was he was glaring at, the boy gave a little squeak before jumping from his seat and sprinting away. His plate of food disappeared, only to quickly be replaced by another. The blonde had sat down.  
  
"What do you want?" Ron didn't want to deal with Malfoy. He wasn't feeling well, and then there was that awkwardness that had arisen...Especially after that "mouth to mouth" fiasco. Malfoy was spending _way_ to much time with him. It was weird, and it was unpleasant.  
  
Picking up his fork, Draco stabbed at the so-called food. "Don't eat it then."  
  
Confusion overtook the Weasley's features. "What?"  
  
Rolling his eyes the Slytherin gestured at their plates. "This. You said you can't eat it, so don't."  
  
Damn could this guy get on his nerves. After all that had happened, turning Draco into a slug didn't sound bad at all. Yeah, it would be sweet revenge. Ironic, but sweet. /Where did I put my wand?/ Out loud, he said, "What are you getting at?"  
  
Draco leaned in closer. Ron could smell peppermint on his breath. "I've got a theory." He leaned away again. What the hell was he going on about?  
  
"Stop talking in riddles, Malfoy. Or I'm gonna' stop listening." The readhead's headache had gotten worse. Everything seemed to get worse while he was around Malfoy. Oh but that was just a coincidence. He was sure.  
  
Without saying a word Draco grabbed at the back of Ron's shirt until the Weasley was standing, and then led him out of the Dining Hall. Still by the doors, they stopped. The blonde cast a suspicious look around before speaking. "I've got a theory on who that freak who keeps attacking us is. I don't want to talk about it here, though. It's too dangerous."  
  
Ron sighed. "Well where do you think we should talk about it then?" A small group of Hufflepuff second and third years came by, laughing and fooling around. Draco didn't answer until they'd vanished upstairs.  
  
"Hogsmeade."  
  
Ron would've choked on his food, if he'd been eating any. Instead, he sputtered. "Hogsmeade?!" A pale hand flew up to cover his mouth. Well, wasn't this familiar. Angrily, he removed the hand. "Sorry, sorry, but...Hogsmeade?"  
  
Malfoy nodded. "Yeah, the Three Broom Sticks tavern to be exact. You know, I could just kill for a butterbeer right now."  
  
Ron's eyes bulged. "But that's off campus. We're not allowed-"  
  
A snort cut him off. "We're nearly _adults_. Besides, what are you, scared?" That smart-ass, know-it-all, sneer found its way onto his face.  
  
A younger Weasley might've blown up at this comment. Might've given in and gone to Hogsmeade, in order to prove his courage. But this was a fifth year Ron, and he shook his head. "No, I've had enough of you Draco. If I'm going to talk to anyone about those attacks, it's gonna' be Dumbledore."  
  
The platinum-haired teen shook his head, as if in disappointment. "You know, I know you're gay, Ron. But I didn't know you were _chicken_."  
  
The Gryffindor's teeth clenched, and face reddened. "I'm not gay! And I'm not going with you to Hogsmeade, Draco." Ron crossed his arms in defiance, and stood as tall as possible.  
  
Malfoy simply smirked.  
********************************************************************************  
  
This time, instead of borrowing a broom from Hooch, Ron had to steal one. At first, the redhead hadn't understood why, and had flatly refused to do this. Then, he'd realized that Draco was right. The professor probably _didn't_ look kindly at students who were planning to leave Hogwarts unauthorized, during the plain day, in order to talk about mystery people while sitting in a dusty tavern.  
  
Oh well, so the blonde had been right once so far.  
  
"Why did I let _you_ of all people talk me into this?" The scene was familiar. Both boys had brooms in their hands as they walked. Only this time they weren't walking to the Quidditch field. This time they were walking to Hogsmeade.  
  
"Shut up. We're almost to the Safe Point."  
  
The Safe Point, as the evil teenage wizard liked to call it, was the spot a bit before the Gates where Draco assumed it was safe to take off at. The way Ron saw it, they wouldn't _need_ a spot if they weren't breaking the rules. Again. How did he get himself into these situations?  
  
"Right. So you ready?" Having been too busy gazing out at the frozen lake and mumbling about certain Slytherin jerks Ron didn't notice that Draco, who was walking in the lead, had stopped until crashing into him.  
  
"Er...sorry. Yeah, I'm ready. Let's just get this over with." Both boys straddled their brooms and flew off.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
It didn't take long for them to get the Hogsmeade train station. Before getting any further into town the boys landed and got off their brooms.  
  
/Stupid owl, and stupid Ginny/, thought Ron, remembering that first day of Break. None of this would've happened if he'd been able to go home. None of this would've happened if Harry had been here. An anger welled up inside of him, directed at both his family and best friend. He knew it was unreasonable. His family had _tried_ to get that letter to him on time. Harry had the right to visit Sirius... Ron just couldn't help it.  
  
Without so much as a word the two rivals began heading for the Three Broom Sticks tavern and, despite how furious he was with everyone, the youngest Weasley brother couldn't help but become curious. Who did Draco believe this dark-robed person was? Was the blonde so sure of himself that he didn't think they should tell Dumbeldore? Sure, the two teens would get in trouble for going around at night. But as for Ron,   
he'd take trouble with Dumbledore over death from a mystery entity any day.  
  
They reached the tavern, and just as Ron reached for the door he was yanked back by Draco, who'd again grabbed at his t-shirt. "Act normal. We don't want anyone knowing we're students from Hogwarts."   
  
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Ron, straightening his shirt. "But what about you?"  
  
Malfoy glared. "What _about_ me?"  
  
"I mean, acting normal. You _never_ act normal, so-"  
  
Before he could finish Draco had stormed inside, a scowl on his face. Ron gave a self-satisfied smirk before hurrying in after him.  
  
To their advantage, the tavern was deserted with the exception of a couple of waiters, the bartender, and a group of people who looked suspiciously like some Ravenclaws Ron knew, who were sitting near the back.  
  
"Come on," said Draco, hurrying for a shadowy corner table, and taking a seat there. Ron followed, sat down and, not wanting to make idle conversation with the blonde, stared into the flame of the little candle that sat at the center of their table until one of the waitresses (a rather plump little woman with a friendly smile) came scuttling over.  
  
"Can I take your order?"  
  
Before Ron could so much as open his mouth Draco had ordered two butterbeers, and two special stews. The redhead frowned. Where did that Slytherin get off, anyway? It wasn't as if he was _paying_ for Ron. It didn't matter that he would've ordered stew anyway. It was just the pointthat Draco had _ordered_.  
  
Straightening in his chair, Ron patted the pocket where his scant amount of money was before speaking. "So what's your theory?"  
  
*******************************************************************************  
  
With a stomach full of stew and a head full of Draco's theory both boys soon headed back to Hogwarts, aiming for that same spot by the Gates so that they could land, then walk back into the school.  
  
It was only a little after noon now, but the sky was gray and ugly. Yet _another_ storm was coming. The Hogwart's grounds were already utterly covered in thick layers of snow that hadn't been able to melt.  
  
/It's a good theory,/ mused Ron, who was holding tightly to his broom while he soared. /I just can't believe it's true./  
  
Draco was on Ron's good side at the moment. Well, as much on his good side as he'd ever get, anyway. Malfoy _had_ actually payed for the meal, and had explained that he thought the culprit they were after, the very one that continued to haunt them, was none other than Harvey Williams.  
  
"Ginny's boyfriend?" It was a hard concept to grasp, but after thinking back to the glaring he'd done in the library, and the way Ginny had explained she'd left him at the stairs last night...Well, it seemed to add up. He _was_ a new student. It _did_ make sense. The only question was why. Why would he want to hurt _them_? Was he a follower of You-Know-Who? And if that was the case, why would he be after Draco?  
  
The boys had discussed this thoroughly at the tavern, and had come up with absolutely nothing. Secretly, Ron wished they could've stayed longer. He'd been enjoying the butterbeer and stew, and believed that they should get this situation figured out, just in case of another attack. But the sky had darkened, and they hadn't wanted to be missed at Hogwarts.  
  
So, here they were, flying towards the school.  
  
"I've got a question for you," started Ron, hoping Draco would be able to hear him through the wind that was rushing past their ears as they flew. Absently, the redhead noted that his leg was itching.  
  
"What?" Malfoy's civil attitude seemed to be fading. And fast.   
  
He received no answer from Ron, which was really weird, because the weasel was the one who'd wanted to ask the question. "I said 'what'?" Still nothing. The blonde risked a glance backwards. "Shit!"  
  
Ron was just barely managing to hang on to his broom. The strong winds seemed suddenly even stronger, and the redhead was panicking. There was a clearly terrified look on his face while he flailed about on his broom. What the heck had happened? Another attack? Had he been hit with another spell?  
  
But Draco received no immediate answer, because Ron went tumbling down, and the magical broom was blown away.  
  
*******************************************************************************  
  
Ron landed hard. The air was knocked out of him and, for a moment, he stayed put while dark spots danced in front of his eyes.   
  
"Where is he?" The voice came from nearby, and it took the redhead a moment to realize it was Draco talking. Apparently, the Slytherin had managed to get off of his broom. His vision finally clearing, Ron could make out Malfoy with his wand at hand, looking back and forth as he searched for the cryptic character in robes who always seemed to be around lately, causing trouble. But there was no one in sight.  
  
Ron remembered the reason he'd fallen and tensed, his fingernails digging into the dirt beneath him while his eyes stared.   
  
"What happened?" Draco walked up, glaring down at the fallen Weasley.  
  
The Gryffindor managed to squeak out an answer through his terror. "There's a...there's a-"  
  
"Hey look." Draco kneeled, reached over, and plucked off the large arachnid that was stuck in the material of Ron's jeans. "A spider." He laughed shortly before flicking it away.  
  
Eyes growing huge, the fifth year shouted. "How did you do _that_?"  
  
Malfoy was looking annoyed. This time he hadn't even _seen_ the dark figure hit Ron. "Huh? What?"  
  
"It was a monster!"  
  
It took a moment for Draco's brain to work, but soon enough he was thinking back to second year, and that rumor about how Weasley was afraid of spiders. So it was true. _That's_ why Ron had fallen from his broom! He broke out laughing.  
  
"You lost a school broom and nearly killed yourself because of a little spider? You idiot."  
  
Ron shook his head frantically. "Little! It was huge! Gigantic, even!"   
  
Still laughing, Draco reached for the redhead. "Just hope Hooch never notices that missing broom. Come on. We're almost at the gates anyway." Malfoy grasped Ron's hand and yanked, but was stopped by a grimace of pain from the other teen. "What is it?" He quickly forgot his amusement with the situation.  
  
"Nothing, really. Just my wrist. It hurts a little."  
  
Anger replaced the mirth that Draco had been broadcasting, and he squinted, examining Ron's hand while he held it in his own. "Dork. See what you did?" Looking up, Draco had planned to give the weasel a belittling lecture, but instead was met with those innocent eyes. And beyond those eyes? A mouth. A rather nice mouth that he'd kissed just the night before. Yeah, kissed. /Shit,/ thought Draco, unknowingly leaning forward. /_I'm_ gay./   
  
Ron's lips tasted of butterscotch this time.  
  
/Who would've thought I was gay?/ Hesitantly, Ron opened his mouth to Draco's questing tongue and soon they were heatedly making out. Before long, they were embracing, the blonde nearly straddling the smaller Ron. However, after a few moments that seemed to be several, wonderful eternities, they pulled apart for air.  
  
"Well," said Ron, noticing the way Draco was draped over him, a pale hand resting comfortably on his hip. "I guess that wasn't mouth to mouth last night."  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Both teenage wizards were in shock. As far as they knew, they'd never been homosexual before, and so weren't sureof how to go about it. Though, they guessed, frenching another guy was probably a good start.  
  
They walked along silently, still slightly dazed, each of them tasting each other's butterbeer, until they finally reached the Gates leading into Hogwarts. At these gates, they paused. Paused because Mr. Albus Dumbledore was standing there, a frown of disapproval on his face.  
  
"I think," he said, eyeing them suspiciously, "You've both got some explaining to do." 


	10. Part Ten

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.  
  
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship.  
  
A/N: Thank You All Readers And Reviewers!!  
  
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break. Please Review.  
  
Pairing: Draco/Ron  
  
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Ron _had_ hurt his wrist. It turned out to be a semi-serious sprang. Since entering the infirmary the redhead had been scolded by an angry Ms. Pomfrey, shoved into bed, and forced to drink something that tasted vaguely like rotten pumpkin juice.  
  
/I wonder what they're saying./ The initial shock and fear of being caught off-campus by Dumbledore had dwindled during the march to the old wizard's office. By the time the three of them had reached the odd-smelling room (Ron suspected Dumbledore had too many different types of sweets laying about), with the snoring wizard portraits and the squawking, feathery phoenix the youngest Weasley brother had actually been quite anxious to tell the old, bearded sorcerer the truth. /I'll just tell him everything,/ Ron had thought. /The attacks, the sneaking out, how we overheard his conversation with Hagrid. Everything./ Yes, telling did seem to be the best solution. Dumbledore would take care of whoever the stalker was, and Ron doubted they would be in _big_ trouble. Standing in the office, wrist throbbing, he'd glanced over at the blond standing next to him. For a brief moment he'd recalled Draco's bad reputation. Well, not _huge_ trouble, anyway.  
  
Ron had been given no time to voice his thoughts though, because just as he was going to open his mouth the Headmaster had taken notice of Ron's swelling wrist. And now here he was, stuck in bed, the vile taste of a healing potion on his tongue and a million scenarios of what could be going on with Draco and Dumbledore playing out in his head.  
  
How would the sly, quick-witted, annoying-as-hell teen handle this one? Although, Ron had to admit, he didn't dislike the blond severely (if at all) at the moment. Rotten pumpkin juice wasn't the only aftertaste on his tongue.  
  
Yeah, this time it had definitely not been mouth to mouth.  
  
Thoughts heavy, Ron sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
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Draco was surprised. The punishment Dumbledork had dished out wasn't nearly as catastrophic as he'd thought it would be. The old man had probably figured that leaving the school during Winter Break wasn't exactly the worst thing the two students could've done.  
  
"You two will be cleaning out both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall's classrooms. I understand Mr. Longbottom made quite a mess of them during midterms." Draco thought he detected a slight flinch within Dumbledore's usually-calm demeanor, but dismissed it as being his imagination. The classrooms couldn't be that bad.  
  
For a moment there was silence while Draco shifted nervously and uncharacteristically from foot to foot. /I should tell him about everything that's been happening./ "We clean a room each?", he asked instead.  
  
"No, both you _and_ Mr. Weasley went off campus. I implore you to carry out your punishment together also." The old wizard had an odd look in his twinkly eyes. Draco knew the man must be wondering why in the Wizarding World he and Weasley (of all people) had run off together.  
  
However, even if Malfoy had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to answer that question. He wasn't sure himself. It had seemed like such a good idea, asking Ron to Hogsmeade.  
  
Another moment of silence stretched on before Dumbledore, looking disappointed with the fact that he'd gotten no answer for his silent question, made a "shooing" gesture. "I suggest you retrieve Mr. Weasley from the infirmary and start cleaning. Unless, of course, you'd like to be scrubbing floors during Christmas! Speaking of which, where _did_ I put Minerva's gift?"  
  
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Draco wandered the halls, his fingers running along the cold stone walls and his feet going wherever they'd like.  
  
Christmas. Draco had nearly forgotten about that. He'd never really been a big Christmas fan, but..... It was on Tuesday, which meant he and Ron only had tonight and tomorrow to clean up whatever mess that fool called Neville had made.  
  
Draco's fingers met air. He halted, turned, and realized that his feet had led him to the open doorway of the infirmary.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
"This is disgusting."  
  
There was no doubt about it. Neville Longbottom had most definitely flunked his midterms.  
  
"Stop complaining and scrub."  
  
Muttering under his breath Ron soaked his already dirty rag in a nearby bucket before ringing it out and continuing to clean. He couldn't understand why Draco was so miffed. It wasn't _his_ fault that the platinum blond had come to the infirmary, seen Ron sleeping, and then had ended up falling asleep himself. It wasn't _his_ fault that neither one of them had returned to the "world of the living" until nearly seven o' clock that night. Malfoy could've nudged Ron awake. He didn't have to take vigil in a nearby chair, only to fall asleep himself.  
  
/It was kinda' nice of him not to wake me though,/ mused Weasley, frowning as he reached the core of the mess in Snape's classroom: A blue, bubbling pile of odd-smelling goo that had once been a cauldron.  
  
/He hasn't said anything about the kiss./  
  
Gritting his teeth Ron "scrubbed" as Draco had commanded and tried to bear the horrid smell. Now that he thought about it, the blonde hadn't said much of anything since they'd woken up in the infirmary.  
  
In fact, it was a moody and silent Malfoy who had led him down to Snape's dungeon of a classroom. Two buckets, some sponges, and a mop had greeted them in the stuffy, darkened room, ruling out any hopeful thoughts of using magic. The two teens had been cleaning for over half an hour now and, save a few rude remarks, Draco hadn't said a word.  
  
Ron's fist seemed to clench tighter around his rag. /He can't treat me like this./ Happy feelings that spawned from kisses and what seemed to be thoughtful vigils fled quickly from the redhead's mind. All the years of torture suffered came back in a rush. Most vivid were the memories of Draco punching him in the stomach, Draco crushing the promised Wizard Cards, Draco running off with Harry's invisible cloak.... And that smart-ass smirk of his! What in the hell was he doing here? Being punished for taking a little off-campus trip with Malfoy, of all people? And, imagine, that prick had even accused Ginny's new boyfriend of being their Stalker!  
  
Suddenly very tomato-faced and angry, Ron stood. "Is this all just some sick, twisted joke?! Was us kissing a fucking joke, Malfoy?!" He wasn't sure where the question came from, nor was he sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was just mad. Horribly, painfully, mad.  
  
Draco had stopped his own scrubbing, and he looked rather surprised. It took only a moment for Ron to realize that the blond wasn't giving him the surprised look, but something behind him.  
  
"Hi Ron. Draco." Eyes bulging, the redhead looked slowly toward the doorway.  
  
Standing there, hair unkempt, robes wrinkled, and a malicious smile that rivaled even Malfoy's plastered on his face, was Harvey Williams. 


	11. Part Eleven

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
A/N: Sorry for the EXTREMELY LONG wait for this chapter. And a huge THANK YOU to every reviewer! : )   
  
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The moment of shock didn't last for long, as much as Harvey would've enjoyed that. Oh well. He didn't have the time anyway, and was rather anxious to use the information he'd just gotten from Ron's big mouth against the two terror-stricken fifth years.  
  
Well, Weasley looked terror-stricken at least. Draco just looked pissed.  
  
"What do you want?," asked the blond, sounding fierce; ready to pounce. One would've thought that having some leverage on the known-and-feared Malfoy would cause the son of Lucius to be a bit more guarded with his words. That one would've, apparently, thought wrong.  
  
Harvey glared and waited for Draco to cave. To show _any_ signs of nervousness at all. He'd heard Ron say the two teens had _kissed_ dammit!   
  
Malfoy didn't flinch.  
  
Harvey reveled in the redhead's fear for a moment longer. He supposed he could push and prod, get even that Slytherin jerk to drop his front and start begging. But...Oh well. He didn't have the time. He'd told Ginny to meet him, and with the bossy way she'd been acting, he wasn't going to be late.  
  
"Can I talk to you, Ron?" It was more a demand than it was a question.  
  
Draco stepped in front of his new (Harvey guessed) boyfriend. "About what?"  
  
The fourth year opened his mouth, ready to shoot back with a hurtful quip. He was cut short.  
  
"He said _Ron_. Not Draco." Weasley seemed to have gotten over, at least temporarily, the fact that he'd just given their Stalker, their _deadly_ Stalker, all of the power in the world. Harvey had everything over them now. They had nothing.  
  
/My temper,/ thought Ron, /I've got to learn to keep my temper in check./ Not that it really mattered anymore. If Harvey decided to cast another spell like the one he had that night during the invisible cloak fiasco...Well, he wouldn't be around to worry about little things like temper.  
  
*******  
  
/Stupid Harvey./  
  
That bastard Williams had just grabbed Ron by the arm and waltzed out of the room. As if he had the _right_ to touch Ron. What made him think he had the right to touch Ron?  
  
To say Draco was upset would've been a vast understatement. He was downright furious. He'd been right. Harvey _was_ the SOB who'd been tormenting them all Winter Break. The Harry Potter Lookalike had knocked them off of their brooms, hit Ron with a dangerous spell, and had even been dating Ginny!  
  
/So why aren't I running to alert Dumbledore?/  
  
Maybe it was because he was afraid of the powerful spells Harvey must be capable of, maybe it was because Harvey now _knew_ about he and Ron kissing and Draco didn't want anyone to know. Or, just maybe, it was because deep down inside that little punk Harvey actually _being_ the Figure In Robes just didn't seem right.  
  
A muffled conversation was going on in the hallway. Soggy sponge still at hand, Draco moved closer to the doorway and listened.  
  
*******  
  
As soon as they stepped out of Snape's classroom, Ron's back was slammed against the wall. He winced before staring up at Harvey bravely. Damn. Was _everybody_ stronger and taller than him now?   
  
"Alright Weasel, I'm tired of this. Let's just settle this once and for all."  
  
/Settle what?/ Sure Ron remembered almost getting killed a few times recently. Sure Draco had theorized that the culprit was Williams. But both teen wizards hadn't gotten around to actually figuring out _why_ Harvey was doing what he was.  
  
"You're a You-Know-Who follower, aren't you?"   
  
Harvey literally growled with frustration.  
  
"Don't play mind games with me, asshole. You know exactly why I'm here, and we've gotta' finish this." He backed off a little, as if thinking. "Midnight. Meet me in the dining hall. And be ready to duel."  
  
Duel? That didn't make much sense. Harvey could easily blast him out of existence right now. This puzzle along with a million others swam around in his head, but the Lookalike wasn't done speaking.  
  
"And Ron," he said threateningly, "don't you dare go crawling to some Professor, or try to back out, unless you want every witch and wizard who doesn't live under a rock to know about your little...secret. Siccing Dumbledore himself on me wouldn't stop _that_ information from getting out." Harvey frowned, glanced at the watch contraption on his wrist, and then walked off, his robes billowing behind him.  
  
Confused, Ron managed to somewhat compose himself. He almost headed for his House before remembering why he'd been in Snape's classroom in the first place. Turning, he entered the odd-smelling, breezy-cold room.  
  
Draco was standing just inside the doorway, a dripping wet sponge in his hand. Ron took this time to look at the platinum-haired wizard. Really look. After a moment he realized he wouldn't have to ask Malfoy about the kisses again. The blonde's eyes had given him his answer.  
  
It hadn't been some sick joke. Not really. But the brief embraces and kisses hadn't meant anything, either. And somehow, for some reason, that made it all worse.  
  
"I'll go with you," said Draco.   
  
Snape's classroom seemed colder than ever.  
  
*******  
  
Draco opened his eyes at approximately 11:45 that night. He was confused and disoriented at first. Sitting up, he wiped the sleep from his eyes, yawned, and stretched thoroughly. The fog of sleep then lifted from his mind, and he jumped up, remembering the reason he'd cast the "wake-up" spell.  
  
Harvey. That little jerk Harvey Williams would be meeting he and Ron in the Great Hall at midnight. The three teenage wizards would face-off. Would finally resolve this damned Figure In Robes business.   
  
Ignoring a part of his brain that was screaming "You Can't Win," and another part that was continuously replaying the memory of Ron getting slammed in the chest with a powerful sphere of light, Draco brushed some wrinkles from his clothes, grabbed his wand, and then hurried through the exit.  
  
The Slytherin House was very nearly in the bowels of the castle, meaning that is was quite a long walk up to the Dining Hall. Soon, the simple "smack" of his sneakers hitting stone and the familiar scenery of Hogwarts' corridors and stairways proved to be less than fitful entertainment. Draco turned to that ever-dreadful pastime: Thinking.  
  
/It doesn't make any sense. Why is Harvey doing this?/  
  
The words "Cruel and Unusual Punishment" came to mind. But that simple answer didn't satisfy Draco.  
  
If the You-Know-Who follower (and that's what he'd assumed Harvey was) was so damned powerful, the most logical thing to do would be to kill. Kill right away. Playing games shouldn't have been his style. Not when Voldemort himself had somehow had his evil plans foiled by Harry Potter over the past couple of years.  
  
No, this was dodgy. It just didn't seem like something a "sensible" follower of Voldemort would do. And Draco _knew_ Voldemort followers...  
  
Harvey was taking a big chance. If he wanted Ron out of the picture as a way to get at Potter....Well, Draco supposed lunatics didn't _have_ to make sense. But still...  
  
/Ron./  
  
The blonde had been trying to avoid that particular subject. After all that had happened, he just didn't know what to do. Didn't know what he felt.  
  
"I'll go with you," he'd said to Ron earlier that day, trying to keep emotion from his voice. Anger, fear, attraction...He felt them all. But he'd managed to work his face into a stoic expression, and had tried like hell to harden his eyes. Tried like hell not to think about what had changed over break when it came to his relationship with Weasley.  
  
And so much had changed.   
  
For a moment, while they stood in Snape's classroom, Ron had just stared. A flash of what might've been pain shone in his eyes before quickly disappearing.  
  
/Just my imagination./  
  
Yeah, that was it. Imagination.  
  
Draco stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.  
  
What else would it be? He'd been the one to initiate the cuddling that first night outside of Hagrid's cabin. He'd been the one who'd forced Ron into a Quidditch game. He'd been the one to give "mouth-to-mouth". He'd been the one who-  
  
Well, he'd been the one to do everything. And Ron had seemed utterly disgusted in the corridor Saturday night, a fresh bruise on his chest and still slightly dizzy, at the thought of Draco having kissed him. He'd looked ready to kick some ass.  
  
However, there was that brief instance before Dumbledore had caught and sentenced them. Ron hadn't pushed Draco away. In fact, he'd acted like he'd liked the kiss. Draco brushed a finger across his own mouth, trying to remember exactly the way the redhead's mouth had felt, warm and yielding under his own...  
  
"You idiot, you moron, you complete and utter dork!" Ginny Weasley's yell, booming through the Entrance Hall, snapped Draco back to reality. He flinched. She'd better shut up, or they'd all get caught. And what was she doing here, anyway? Was she yelling at Ron?   
  
Draco almost snarled, his teeth clenching. /We don't have time for this sibling rivalry crap now. This is a dangerous situation!/ He entered the Great Hall.  
  
"I'm _sorry_ Ginny," came the whining answer. Ron's younger sister and Harvey were both standing in front of the table where Dumbledore and the Professors usually dined. Ginny looked angrier than ever. Her small fists were clenched tightly, and she was glaring at Harvey. The Ravenclaw seemed rather afraid. "Are you breaking up with me?"  
  
"Ginny, get away from him. He's not who you think." Draco stepped from the shadows and into the light that emitted from their glowing wands.   
  
It was silent for a moment. Ginny looked surprised to see Malfoy, Harvey looked confused, and Draco took the opportunity to realize he was actually attempting to aid yet another member of the Weasley family.  
  
How in the world had this happened? How had he gone from being the snide, sneering, drawling young villain to being the guy who had a crush on Harry Potters sidekick? And not even Potters more feminine sidekick! /Have I become a good guy?/  
  
Is that what he was? No, it couldn't be. His father was still Lucius. He was still a Malfoy. He would still have to get the Dark Mark. No way had he shifted into Superhero mode. Had he?  
  
"You," growled Ginny, quite suddenly breaking the quiet. "What are _you_ doing here?" She rounded on Harvey. "What is _he_ doing here?"  
  
Harvey opened and closed his mouth a few times, imitating a fish, before finally managing a reply. "I g-guess Ron brought him as his second." He shot a look at the blonde. "He was there when I asked Ron to come."  
  
"Asked Ron to come! Asked! Slammed him against the wall and threatened, more like! And what _did_ you blackmail him about, anyway?" Harvey gawked before stammering a few unintelligible words. Ginny pursed her lips and eyed Draco, who was completely lost as to what was going on.  
  
"Well, where is he?" snapped Ginny.  
  
"Who?" Draco hadn't the slightest idea of who she could be referring to. His brain was too busy trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. Ginny _knew_ Harvey had forced Ron into a Duel? She knew about Harvey and wasn't running the other way very quickly?   
  
"Ron! Isn't he with you?" She looked furious, and Draco was reminded of Hermione back in third year. Would Ginny resort to slapping in order to get her questions answered?  
  
"Well?" The wand light reflected in her eyes gave her a menacing look, and Draco decided he'd rather not find out if she was similar to Granger while angry.  
  
"He's coming."  
  
"From Gryffindor Tower?"  
  
"Yes. We were going to meet here." He paused. "What are you doing here Ginny?"  
  
She threw out her arm to point at Harvey. "Can you believe it? He asked me to be his second in a Duel against my own brother!"  
  
At this, Harvey seemed to compose himself. Or, at least, he stood up straighter and tried to look less intimidated. Brushing nervously at his robes, he spoke. "Now listen, Gin. The only reason I challenged Ron to a Duel is because you've been complaining about him so much. Ron The Jerk this and Ron The Jerk that, you know? I thought you'd like the idea of a Duel. Cast a few funny charms on him to get even. I just did it to make you feel better."  
  
"Really?" ventured Ginny, who's eyes had turned from raging mad to completely forgiving in the midst of her boyfriend's speech.  
  
"Don't listen to him!" Draco's yell startled them. The platinum-haired wizard ground his teeth while trying to discern just why a powerful dark wizard like Harvey would need a second for a Duel, or a girlfriend that told him off. The doubt he'd felt earlier came back gnawing hard.   
  
"Ginny, Harvey's the one who nailed Ron with the spell that night. He also knocked Ron and I off our brooms on that day we saw you in the library! Remember? He's our Stalker! He's been trying to kill us!"  
  
"WHAT?!" Ginny and Harvey chorused, their eyes bulging and mouths hanging open.  
  
"That's right! That's why you challenged Ron. Right Harvey? You're a Voldemort follower?"  
  
Another round of gasps.  
  
"I...What are you talking about Malfoy? Trying to kill...? You-Know-Who follower?" He shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"Someone's been trying to kill you?" Ginny's eyes were flashing again, but this time with fear. "And you think it's Harvey?"  
  
"_Know_ it's Harvey! He confirmed it with this Duel!" Draco was grasping his wand quite tightly now.  
  
Ginny's voice took on a calm, reasonable tone as she spoke to the two shaken boys. "Guys, this can't be." She turned. "Draco, I was _with_ Harvey that day at the library. He couldn't have followed you to knock you off your brooms because he was making out...er...He was playing Wizard's Chess with me." She coughed. "And about that night. I left Harvey at the stairs, but now that I think about it I also saw this weird person. All dressed in black and the person ran right by me after nearly knocking me down. Didn't say a word. Not long after that Ron got nailed. That could've been who was trying to kill you! I didn't think to mention it 'till now. Thought it was another student. This is so horrible. Haven't you told someone yet? Dumbledore?"  
  
Ignoring her question, Draco pressed on. "You could just be saying that! How do I know your not under the Imperius Curse?" This situation was going from bad to worse. How could he be sure Harvey wasn't controlling Ginny somehow? Who could he trust?  
  
"Imperius Curse? I've just been telling Harvey off, Malfoy! Besides, if Harvey was really a You-Know-Who follower, why would he have brought me into it? Why would he need a second? Wouldn't he have just finished you guys off? And why would I have come to stop this crazy Duel?" She had some good points, and it just served to make everything more complicated.  
  
"Holy shit, I don't know!" Both younger teens flinched at his outburst. The blonde was breathing hard. "Where's Ron, anyway?"  
  
Harvey glanced at his watch. "He should've been here ten minutes ago." All three of them tensed at this. They had not heard the big clock that was somewhere in the castle strike the hour, like usual. Were they really being so loud? Someone would surely catch them.  
  
"Probably still sleeping, the lazy git." Ginny said this before squaring her shoulders in a determined manner and casting a look at the huge, decorated trees that dominated the Hall. "Let's go wake him up and get this sorted out. Then we can go to Dumbledore, unless you two have come up with a good reason not to, as you obviously haven't told him yet. Come on."  
  
Draco looked utterly surprised. "You're taking me to Gryffindor Tower?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Well, not like you don't know where it is by now. Right?" She was right. And her attitude was becoming more like Granger's by the second.  
  
"Okay, let's go."  
  
*******  
  
Yes, Draco had had a general idea of where the Gryffindor's dwelling might be, but actually watching Ginny speak to the Fat Lady portrait and mutter a password (both he and Harvey plugged their ears, of course) before disappearing inside was a whole other ball game.  
  
Now he knew where his rival, Harry Potter, lived. He knew now and he had no desire to do anything about it. How terribly ironic was that? Because he was sure that if he wanted to, he'd be able to wrestle the password out of someone like Neville. He'd be able to play some good pranks, pass it on to his father, maybe it'd go to the Dark Lord himself... But, for some reason, he couldn't see himself doing something like that anymore. He wouldn't do something like that. And that was freaky. Because that meant changing sides, and family rivalry, and-  
  
"He's not in his bed!" Ginny came rushing out of the portrait hole, eyes round with fear. "He's gone! And we couldn't have missed him going down to the Hall."  
  
"Gone?" Draco's stomach rolled. Ron couldn't be gone. Because gone meant he wasn't there. Gone meant Voldemort's follower had probably gotten to him. "Ginny, who else stayed for break in your House? They had to have known the password. Maybe a teacher...?"  
  
The scarlet-haired fourth year hadn't heard the question. She hugged the shocked Harvey and held back tears. "Maybe," she began, then sniffed. "Maybe he's just gone to the kitchens. He told me once he knows how to-"  
  
Draco shook his head. "No, he wouldn't have gone if he thought he had an appointment with a dark wizard who was trying to kill him. He would've hauled ass to the Duel."  
  
"Well, maybe he was afraid. And-"  
  
"But I blackmailed him, remember? And he wouldn't have run because.... Well, he would've gone to the Duel." Harvey was biting at his lip, eyes darting around anxiously.  
  
Draco was almost thankful Ginny was too riled to have the sense to again ask her boyfriend what he'd blackmailed Ron with. Almost. Because he was sure as hell riled, too. "Any clues? A sort of ransom note left for Harry, maybe?" He knew he was grasping at straws. But he had to grasp at something. When Ginny shook her head in the negative, he shot a searching look at the Fat Lady, who was listening intently to their conversation. "Let me go in, Ginny. Let me check his room."  
  
The girl pulled away from her hug with Harvey. "Draco, I can't."  
  
Harvey Williams, the Harry Potter Lookalike with the messy hair and wrinkly robes had guilt and anxiousness and a million other raw emotions practically written across his face. "You better, Ginny. Unless you like the idea of your big brother being captured by some dark wizard, or being used as Harry bait, you better."  
  
"Well, do you all want to know what I think you ought to do?" A new voice split the air. The trio couldn't help but jump. Panicked, they all turned.  
  
"I think you ought to tell Dumbledore."  
  
Professor Snape was standing there, looking pale and sallow as ever. 


	12. Part Twelve

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
A/N: Over fifty reviews!! I am eternally grateful to each and every reviewer!! Thank you, thank you, thank you : ) In this chapter the Mysterious Entity is revealed. Who is it? Read to find out! And feel free to review some more... : ) Next chap should be up soon (it's almost the end!).  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Ron was sleeping, but restless. His wand sat on the small bedside table, set to wake him at 11:30. Half an hour early because the redhead figured if he was going to take on a powerful dark wizard in a Duel he should be there on time.  
  
Right.  
  
At first he thought the touch was a dream. A nice caress up and down his arm. Almost tickling, but nice. And Ron's tired mind attempted to put a face to that touch. Hermione was first. But all that bushy hair and pushy attitude somehow didn't appeal.  
  
Then came pale skin, light eyes, white-blond hair, and the dream-taste of butterscotch overwhelmed him.  
  
Draco.  
  
/You're dreaming sexy things about Malfoy,/ supplied his weary brain, and the thought was so normal and...welcoming? that it took Ron quite a while before he actually opened his eyes in "surprise."  
  
/I've gotta' stop this. It's getting out of hand./ He was all ready to internally lecture himself. All ready, that is, before he realized the touch was real.  
  
It was Draco Malfoy, looming over him and grinning a sort of goofy half-grin that Ron was not at all accustomed to seeing when it came to this particular face.  
  
"Draco, what are you doing here? Is it time for the Duel?" But the redhead's wand lay still, and the blonde shook his head. "Then what are you doing here?"   
  
What _was_ he doing here? And how could he possibly have gotten inside? Had he wormed the password out of someone? But who? And what was the point?  
  
"I've found out who's been trying to kill you," said the teen wizard. His voice sounded different. As if he was just getting used to it. Maybe Ron was imagining it. Maybe he was just tired.  
  
Weasley snorted. "Yeah, I was there remember? It's Harvey."  
  
Draco looked almost amused at this. "No, it's not him after all. I've found out who it is, but we have to go now if we're going to catch him." He tugged at the sleeve of Ron's pajamas. "Let's go."  
  
"Not Harvey? But that doesn't make any sense. What about the Duel and-"  
  
He was cut off, and now Malfoy simply looked annoyed. "Come on, Weasel. You do want to catch who's been trying to kill you, right?"  
  
There were two things wrong with what Draco had said, and Ron noticed. One, Draco hadn't called Ron "weasel" in quite a few days, at least not with so much venom behind the word. Even though it wasn't impossible for the blonde to simply slip back into name-calling mode, it was a bit odd. And then there was the fact that he said "kill you," because even though Ron _had_ been the one to get hit in the chest with a spell, both of them had been knocked off of their brooms. And both of them had been together for all of the attacks. They'd assumed their stalker had been trying to kill them both, not just Ron.  
  
Plus, there was the fact that he'd managed to get inside Gryffindor Tower, and was now telling Ron to follow him, because it wasn't their prime suspect after all who was trying to kill him. For a moment the teen turned these thoughts over in his head, trying to figure out what could possibly be happening. And then all at once he remembered the Polyjuice potion he, Harry and Hermione had used in second year. He remembered last year and Crouch disguised as Moody....  
  
As Draco leaned over him, still tugging at his flannel sleeve, Ron thought he detected the very faint scent of cabbage on the blonde's breath. Cabbage. The smell of Polyjuice potion. Shit.  
  
This was him. The Stalker. Ron was face to face with the person who'd been trying to kill him all through Winter Break. Face to face, and he still had absolutely no idea who it was.  
  
Panic overtook him. His breathing became immediately shallow and his muscles tensed under the pseudo-Draco's touch. What should he do? Attack, flee, play along?  
  
/Think, Ron. Think./  
  
Ron's eyes moved to the wand at his bedside table. Could he reach for it, aim, and fire before the platinum blonde could draw his own weapon? No, probably not.  
  
"Well?" The imposter's voice was not quite steady. He stood quickly, eyes gleaming in the soft light that came in through the windows. "Hurry up."  
  
"Er...," began Ron, before realizing there was no other choice. If this fake Draco was trying to play it cool, he'd have to let Ron have his wand anyway. Ron would just have to wait for the right opportunity to blast him. Assuming, of course, that there would be a right opportunity.  
  
"Let me get dressed," he said, and stood also, still feeling sleepy and unsteady. He edged around the four-poster to his trunk before pulling it open with a grunt and pulling out the first pair of day clothes he spotted: A pair of worn jeans and a loose t-shirt that had once belonged to Fred.  
  
The supposed Draco turned around. Ron stared at his back for a moment. The blonde wasn't dressed in the Slytherin uniform or robes. This wasn't the weirdest thing to see, as almost all through break the real Malfoy had substituted his usual school attire for muggle clothing.  
  
_This_ Malfoy was doing a good impression of the genuine muggle-dressed one. He wore a white, collared shirt (not tucked in) and a pair of dark khakis. There was just one problem. One little difference that doubly assured the redhead that he was dealing with an imposter.  
  
The clothes looked brand new. Never worn. Like they'd just been bought for the occasion. Which they probably had.  
  
It was besides the point that the imposter looked decidedly uncomfortable in these clothes. Although, that fact did only serve to boost Ron's assurance.  
  
"We don't have all night, Weasel. The killer's going to get away." The stalker shot a dark look back at the redhead before turning away again. "Now hurry."  
  
"Right," answered Ron, finally beginning to change. Less than a minute later he was throwing his pajamas back into the trunk, silently hoping he'd be around to wear them again. "Ready."  
  
He snatched his wand from the bedside table and followed the Draco lookalike, who had already reached the door.  
  
*******  
  
"Where are we going? Where's the killer at?"  
  
Ron asked this, trying both to break the ominous quiet and to get answers. They were heading down the marble staircase now. Their footsteps sounded loud and intruding.  
  
The imposter was quiet for a moment; thinking. Perhaps weighing the pros and cons of telling Ron anything. "The forest," he finally said, calm as could be.  
  
"The _Forbidden_ Forest?" Weasley tried very hard to act brave, tried to cover up his anxiety. He could remember Harry getting attacked in first year, the gigantic, deadly spiders in second year, and getting pulled into the Whomping Willow entrance by a black dog that had looked a bit too much like a Grim during third year...  
  
And then he remembered that this wasn't Draco at all, and that he had no reason to put up a front. In fact, it might even look suspicious, being so sedate about it. "Are you sure? You better be damn sure that the killer's in there. I'm not going into that hell-on-earth for nothing."  
  
Fake Malfoy gave a little chuckle as they walked outside and began descending the stone steps. "Not for nothing," he said, and Ron caught the malevolence of it. "Don't worry."  
  
It was very cold. Snow was drifting down from the dark sky, landing softly on the already-glittering ground. This reminded Ron of something. He looked up at the near full moon, his hand gripping at his wand so tightly he thought it might snap in two.  
  
/It'll be Christmas Eve at midnight./ Well, this surely wasn't going to turn out being the best holiday ever. But he'd at least like to be _alive_ for it. Which meant he had to do something. He had to blast the intruder before they could get to the forest. Otherwise, it might be too late.   
  
It might already be too late.  
  
He slowed his walking, trying not to make it obvious. Surprisingly, fake Draco seemed not to take notice, and strode on, ending up a good few feet ahead of Ron. They were getting closer to the edge of the forest.  
  
/Why is he being so careless?/ But what did that matter, really? This was the perfect time to strike! The best opportunity he could hope for. The redhead's mouth had gone dry, his feet walked on as if of their own volition. Ron's chest throbbed. It was still bruised. He remembered the pain of the spell this imposter had shot at him.... Fear filled him.  
  
Fake Draco stepped into the forest. Ron followed.  
  
He kept his wand at hand, arguing with himself. Trying to beat the powerful feeling of fear that had come over him. If he didn't do something, the stalker would kill him anyway! He couldn't allow himself to go down not fighting. He had to _try_.  
  
/Try./ His wand hand lifted. He had the words of a curse on his lips.  
  
And then the imposter stopped walking. "Well," he said, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"   
  
*******  
  
Harvey Williams had been attending Hogwarts for less than a year, and had already gained a great dislike for Professor Severus Snape. The darkly dressed, greasy-haired man was leading the way through the corridors of the castle as the three students trailed behind.  
  
Ginny's red hair bobbed as she walked. Her hand was enveloped in Harvey's own, and her eyes were darting into every dark corner they passed, perhaps hoping for a glimpse of her older brother. Draco was walking ahead of the pair, looking annoyed.   
  
"Professor? Aren't we going to Headmaster Dumbledore's office?" The blonde said this, looking as if he was trying to hold back a particularly nasty comment. When Snape had spotted the two Gryffindor's and Draco the man had automatically assumed Malfoy was being bullied. Until, of course, Draco had vouched for the two arguing fourth years, saying that Ron _was_, in fact, missing. Then all three students had demanded to talk to the Headmaster, and had refused to divulge anymore information.  
  
Harvey could tell Professor Snape wasn't the happiest man in the world at the moment. After all, he'd found three students lurking around after curfew and obviously wouldn't be able to do much about it, seeing as how it _was_ Winter Break (meaning school was not officially in session). Then, of course, there was the fact that Ron was missing. Ron missing meant bigger fish to fry right now. It meant no punishing students until disaster was successfully averted, if any punishment went on at all.  
  
"Sir?"   
  
"I don't think the Headmaster would appreciate a group of students barging in on him while sleeping, Mr. Malfoy. You'll wait in my office, and I'll get him." Draco's expression was such that Harvey thought the blonde would protest. But the boy didn't. Instead, he held his tongue and sped his pace so that he was walking right beside Snape.  
  
Williams didn't believe the jerk of a Slytherin Head of House for a second. The man wasn't thinking about Dumbledore's welfare, Harvey was sure of that. It was intimidation Snape was thinking about. Waiting around in his office, within the dungeons, watching mysterious bits of animals and goo floating about in jars was much more uncomfortable than marching promptly to Dumbledore.  
  
/We don't have time for this./   
  
Ron was missing. A _student_ was missing. Couldn't Snape understand that? Didn't he care?  
  
They reached the dimly lit office, the Professor barked a command to stay, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.  
  
/Of course he doesn't care. He's a Slytherin. But Ron.../  
  
A wave of guilt came over Harvey. So Draco and the redhead had thought he was some kind of killer? Some servant of the Dark Lord? The fourth year shuddered and squeezed Ginny's hand a little tighter.  
  
He didn't blame the two teens. He'd acted horribly. Slamming Ron up against the wall like that, yelling obscenities, threatening him.... Harvey supposed it was his old "bad boy" self that had surfaced. He'd been so mad, so absolutely annoyed with the fact that his girlfriend had talked of nothing but her extremely vexing brother all Winter Break. But that was no real excuse, and Harvey realized, for the first time, just _why_ they'd wanted to kick him out of his old school.  
  
He understood now. And thinking back to the way he'd treated Ron, felt incredibly guilty.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, and the two other occupants of the room turned to look at him.  
  
*******  
  
They had reached a clearing. The light of the moon broke through gaps in the trees and shone strongly on the two teenagers. Fake Draco's hair looked silvery. The pale boy himself looked ethereal.  
  
"Well," said the imposter, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Ready?" Ron hesitated. What if he was wrong? He had no real proof this person was under the influence of Polyjuice potion. This could be the real Draco. The blonde _could_ have found the killer. Maybe this wasn't some Death Eater in disguise. Maybe Draco just liked cabbage.  
  
But this hesitation was a mistake, because in the instant that Ron was thinking these things the imposter lifted his wand (a wand that definitely didn't look like Draco's), uttered a spell, and the redhead's own wand went flying out of his hands, and out of reach.  
  
"Ready to die, I mean," said the blonde who, in fact, wasn't blonde anymore. For he had started to change. Ron gasped, not believing what he saw.  
  
In front of him stood John, the innocent little first year with whom he'd played chess with the night he'd gotten hit with the spell. The little first year who had sat with him during breakfasts, and who squeaked in fear when Draco was around.  
  
The boy, even wearing clothes that didn't quite fit him anymore, and standing a good few inches smaller than Ron, didn't look so innocent anymore.  
  
"John?"  
  
"That's right," said the eleven-year-old, pointing his wand at Ron's heart. "John. John Macnair." 


	13. Part Thirteen

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
A/N: It took me forever and a day to update, I know. I want to apologize to all of the readers profusely. Real Life kinda' got in the way of my writing for a while. Work, School, Etc. However, I _did_ manage to finish this story! I hope you all enjoy it! And a million thank you's to every reviewer! ^_^ v The last chapter should be up soon. It's all written, I just need to edit it!  
  
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Draco was seething. He was leaning against the stone wall, staring at the closed door of the office, internally cursing Snape. Images of Ron in several not-so-good situations, hurt and bleeding, flashed through his mind. He should be doing something. _Anything_, to find Ron.  
  
Severus Snape had always been a likable man, in Malfoy's opinion. Witty, fair, and just plain _likable_. Yes, the potions instructor was a man Draco had always greatly admired. Until now. Until he'd seen the way the greasy-haired Professor had snapped at Harvey and Ginny. Especially poor Ginny, who's older brother was missing. No "May I ask what you're doing in the corridors at this time?" No "Are you all okay?" Even after overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation, he'd gone to Draco's defense immediately. Something about being bullied. And Draco hadn't needed defense.  
  
"I think you should tell Dumbledore," Snape had said. But that was before the three teens had yelled an agreement. Before the blonde had deemed the word of two Gryffindor's honorable. Ginny's brother _was_ missing, and they'd gladly tell the Headmaster all about it.  
  
To Snape that meant no enjoyable punishments. No point deductions. No consequences. At least not immediately. And that didn't make him happy.  
  
Telling Severus everything would've been a waste of time. The man would've harped on the fact that Ron had been out after hours several times instead of the fact that the redhead was missing, and very obviously in danger. He would've complained over Weasley getting so little a punishment after leaving campus for Hogsmeade. All in all, the Professor would've taken much too long to get Dumbledore, or to take action. Refusing to speak unless the Headmaster was in their presence had been a good move.  
  
Or so Draco had thought. Snape was taking too damn long.  
  
"I'm sorry." Harvey's voice broke the quiet. Both Draco and Ginny turned to look at him.  
  
The Ravenclaw was as pale as a ghost. His hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes were anguished. "I shouldn't have slammed Ron up against the wall like that. I shouldn't have threatened him. I- "  
  
"Forget it." The air was frigid. There was no sign of Dumbledore or Snape. Ron could be dead. Draco sure as hell didn't want to deal with Harvey's regrets. Not now. He felt nervous and jumpy. He had to _do_ something. He had crossed the room and opened the door within seconds. "Stay here and tell Dumbledore what you know."  
  
Looking terrified, Ginny ran to grab his shoulder. "What are you going to do? Where are you going?"  
  
Draco smirked. "To play hero."  
  
*******  
  
"John. John Macnair."  
  
Macnair? Ron knew that name. Somehow, he knew it. It was a faint itch at the back of his mind, but there wasn't time for thinking.  
  
Though scared, the redhead wasn't frozen. Though without his wand, Ron didn't feel all hope was lost. His Figure In Robes wasn't a powerful Death Eater, or Voldemort's right-hand man after all. It was an eleven-year-old boy. And though the boy obviously had knowledge of very dangerous spells, the situation just didn't seem as bad as it could've been.  
  
_Harvey_ would've been worse than this.  
  
"I suppose you'd like to know why I went after you instead of Potter," began John, and Ron realized that the boy was going through with the customary villain-explains-all speech.  
  
He didn't listen. Instead, he wondered if ramming the kid would be too risky. There was no doubt Ron could overpower John, but the first year might be able to fire off a spell before hitting the ground, which wouldn't do at all.  
  
"....Harry had too many eyes on him. Dumbledore, the Professors, _everybody_ looks out for the Boy Who Lived. So I thought- Hey!"  
  
Ron ran.  
  
He turned and sprinted from the clearing, John's curses booming behind him. Snow crunched underfoot, a blue beam of light nearly grazed his cheek, another beam just missed his heels. John was firing spells at him, furious.  
  
Ron was no longer glad about Macnair being the stalker. With the sound of John's yelling and the flashing of dangerous spells had come a frightening realization. How could he have been so stupid? The first year was deadly.  
  
In a classic damsel in distress move, Ron tripped. The tip of his shoe collided with a large root that was jutting out of the ground, partially hidden by the thick layers of snow. He ended up on all fours, his palms scraped and red, his knees bruised. "Shit."  
  
He forced himself up, yet another spell hitting the spot where he'd been only a moment before. Ron limped on, towards the castle. Towards Hogwarts because Dumbledore would know what to do. Because he'd be saved. Because Draco would be there, and that somehow made it the best place to be.  
  
And then the unexpected happened.  
  
In a not-so-classic pursuing villain move, John tripped. Ron heard the boy cry out and chanced a look back, only to be met with the pleasurable sight of the first year falling face-first into the snow. The boy coughed and sputtered. His wand went flying.  
  
Ron didn't see where the weapon landed. It didn't matter. Thanking his lucky stars, the redhead grabbed the first potential weapon he spotted: A thin, sturdy tree limb that was lying on the ground.  
  
  
  
He couldn't just leave John here. On one hand that could give the boy a chance to escape, leaving him free to do whatever evil deeds he desired to do. On the other, there was always the chance that Macnair would somehow find his wand, catch up to Ron before he could reach the castle and...Well, no good would come of that.  
  
The only option was to knock John out. _Then_ he'd go for Dumbledore.  
  
"Bastard," spat Ron angrily before gripping the limb and swinging it at John's head.   
  
CRACK.  
  
Ron blinked. Crack? Wasn't the sound of impact supposed to be more of a thunk? And why wasn't John limp and unconscious?  
  
Slowly, he lifted the limb and examined it. "Hey, I found it," he said and gave a nervous little laugh. It turned out he was holding not a tree limb, but the school broomstick that he'd used on the trip to Hogsmeade. The broomstick he'd ended up losing because of that stupid spider. John's skull had broken the broom, and a portion of it hung limply to one side.  
  
Well, he'd always believed the things were cheap.   
  
"That hurt, you jerk!" The eleven-year-old managed to stand. His face was red with cold and anger, and his eyes looked slightly unfocused. He had his wand at hand. Apparently it hadn't flown far.  
  
Ron's examination of the damned broom had cost him. He clenched his teeth, angry. "Jerk?! You're the one trying to kill me!"  
  
"The one that _is_ killing you. Crucio!"  
  
Harry had told Ron that this unforgivable curse had been cast on him during his brief stay in the cemetery with Voldemort. Ron himself had seen the spell demonstrated on a spider before. The thing had writhed in agony. Harry had tried to describe the horrid pain in one of his more emotional, sharing moments. Tried to. But this pain seemed almost indescribable.  
  
Ron's body was on fire. He could feel the pain down into his bones. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and he dimly registered that he'd fallen to his knees. A horrible, keening sound was coming from his lips. He was hardly aware of it. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to die...  
  
It stopped.  
  
There was a ringing in his ears. He stayed put, breathing hard. After a moment he realized John was laughing at him. A sick laugh. Ron imagined Voldemort's laugh might sound exactly like it.  
  
The redhead had almost caught his breath when the first year raised his wand again, a look of pleasure upon his face. "Cruc-!"  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS! STUPIFY!"  
  
It took all of a split second for John's wand to fly out of his hand. And then he fell.  
  
"Holy crap! Are you okay?"   
  
It was Draco. The _real_ Draco. He was breathing hard, and his face was flushed. "I heard him! He cast...he...That fucking asshole!"  
  
Ron couldn't speak. He was still on his bruised knees, staring at the prone form of John Macnair.   
  
Macnair. He remembered now. Back in third year there had been an executioner sent to the school to kill the Hippogriff that had attacked Draco. This was the boy that belonged to Lucious Malfoy's friend, a Death Eater named Walden Macnair.   
  
Draco came closer and nudged John with his foot. "I don't get it. Who is this?"  
  
"John Macnair."  
  
A look of understanding came to Draco. The teen nodded, and his eyes darkened as he glared down at the defeated boy. "Oh." Ron didn't bother to ask how Draco knew about the Macnair's.   
  
Ron's wrist was hurting. Again. It was the same wrist he'd injured before, but he couldn't remember if he'd hurt it when he'd tripped over the root, or when he'd fallen to the ground in pain from John's spell. It didn't matter. Either way, it hurt.  
  
His whole body was aching. Like an aftershock to crucio. A memory of the complete agony. It had hurt so badly...He would take death over pain like that any day.  
  
Suddenly the blonde was near him. Draco sat on the ground. He lifted his hand, hesitated, and then brushed Ron's cheek softly with his knuckles. Ron realized there were tears leaking from his eyes. He'd been so scared.... He hadn't realized that he'd started to cry.  
  
"I'm okay," he said, wiping at his eyes. "I'm f-fine." He had to get up. Had to retrace his steps to the clearing and retrieve his wand. Had to go to the infirmary and get his wrist checked. Had to get Dumbledore over here. "We gotta' get the Headmaster."  
  
"He's coming," said Draco.  
  
"Coming?" It was useless, the wiping his eyes, because he couldn't seem to stop crying. He felt stupid. And he felt, suddenly, that Harry Potter deserved a whole hell of a lot more fame and appreciation then he'd ever been given. What the guy must've gone through!  
  
"I'm fine," he said again, but wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if Draco had asked if he was or not.  
  
Strong hands wrapped around his midriff. Draco pulled him closer, and then he was sitting in the blonde's lap. He buried his face into Draco's chest, still weeping and trying to stop. He hadn't died. He was okay. Why was he acting like this?  
  
Fingers ran through his hair, stroking. It was calming. "Yeah, Ron. You're okay." Draco kissed his forehead lightly, surprising both teens immensely.  
  
And then Ron began to cry harder. But not because he still felt some imaginary lingering pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Not because his wrist was hurting and he was worried he wouldn't find his wand, or that he and Draco would both be in a lot of trouble. But because he was happy.  
  
Now he knew. He knew that he'd been wrong earlier. The kisses _had_ meant something. Everything that had happened during this crazy holiday had meant something.  
  
Ron was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, if he hadn't already fallen. And, if he wasn't sorely mistaken, Draco Malfoy was falling in love with him.  
  
Slightly calmer, he enjoyed the feeling of hands running through his hair. What would Hermionie say? Or Harry? He thought back, remembering all of the cruel and hateful things Draco and his lackeys had done to the Famous Trio throughout the years, and frowned.  
  
Harry and Hermionie didn't have to know a thing. And, okay, maybe it wasn't something as strong as love. Maybe it was just lust. But it was certainly a feeling of _something_ and that feeling had just increased tenfold.  
  
*******  
  
If Draco had wanted to do away with Ron Weasley tonight, he would've lured or forced him out of Hogwarts castle, killed him, and then left his corpse to be eaten by the horrors that lived in the Forbidden Forest.  
  
The blonde cringed, still stroking Ron's hair. He hadn't wanted to do away with the redhead, of course, but once he'd stepped out of Snape's office he'd decided the Forbidden Forest was as good a place as any to start looking for the missing boy.  
  
Unfortunately, or (now that Draco thought about it) fortunately, just as he'd been pushing open the door leading outside both Dumbledore and Snape had come hurrying down the marble staircase, breathing hard.  
  
So Snape hadn't been taking his sweet time after all. Well, that or Dumbledore had insisted they hurry.   
  
"Mr. Malfoy? What are you doing?" It was Dumbledore who spotted him, standing there holding the door open, poised to go outside. The old man's eyes had widened slightly behind those little glasses.  
  
"Looking for Ron," he'd answered.  
  
Snape had given him a funny look then. As if the Professor was thinking that maybe his favorite student had gone totally bonkers, or was some intruder under the influence of, say, Polyjuice potion. Because, regularly, he never called Ron by his first name. Regularly, he wouldn't have been wandering the halls with a couple of Gryffindors. Regularly, he wouldn't have been looking for a missing Ron.  
  
"Of course," Dumbledore had said. "We'll get to that right away if you'll just explain to me what's going on. Now, if you'd follow-"  
  
Draco had frowned, looking towards the forest. "There isn't time. Ask Ginny and Harvey. They'll give you the general idea."  
  
"Going off looking for him alone when danger is afoot isn't wise," had commented Snape. But Draco hadn't been listening. Because there had been several flashes of light within the forest. Spells.  
  
He had run then. Sprinted towards the forest. He imagined that Dumbledore and Snape had stumbled after him, because he'd heard their frantic yelling. They'd be coming soon. And he was here, with Ron on his lap and a stupified first year lying nearby.  
  
It was okay, though. He didn't mind the Ron on his lap part. Although he _did_ feel like killing the first year.  
  
Draco sighed. He'd heard Macnair cast an unforgivable curse. On Ron. He hadn't gotten here in time to stop it. /He's alright though,/ he assured himself. /He's fine./  
  
The awkward feelings and hormonal-induced lust for Ron that had been stewing within him for close to five years had finally come to the surface. He could admit everything to himself now. Admit everything to Ron.  
  
The blonde smiled a little when he noticed Ron had fallen asleep. He held the boy closer.  
  
Draco Malfoy was pretty sure he was in lo...er, lust.  
  
In his arms, Ron gave a contented, sleepy sigh.  
  
No. Damn sure he was in...something. 


	14. Part Fourteen

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
A/N: I'm done! Finished! Here it is folks, and I hope you all like it. This is not exactly how I was expecting it to end. Then again, this wasn't supposed to be a fourteen part fic either... : ) Over sixty reviews (thank you, thank you!), and I can't believe it! I've been inspired to write more fanfics, Harry Potter and otherwise, so if you're interested I should be coming out with something soon. Something slashy, of course : ) Well, enough rambling, on with the ending of the fic! Please enjoy! And thanks again to all readers and reviewers (I know I've repeated this a lot, I'm just very grateful). : )  
  
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"Really! In the infirmary twice in one Winter Vacation! It's ridiculous! And, imagine, the Headmaster refusing to tell me what happened! Humph."  
  
Feeling sweaty and miserable, Ron woke to the loud complaints of Madam Pomfrey. He could sense the sunlight that was streaming through the curtainless windows, falling across his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of several heavy blankets piled atop his body and of the school's plump, little nurse across the room, muttering to herself and straightening the sheet on one of the cots.  
  
Pomfrey didn't notice at first that Ron was awake. She continued her mumbling, shaking her head and pursing her lips until the redhead opened his mouth to speak, only to discover that it was as dry as cotton, along with his throat. He began to cough. A dry and fiery cough that was incredibly painful. There was a surprised "oh!" and then a cool cloth was being pressed to his forehead and a rather delightful-tasting concoction was being poured into his mouth.  
  
"Oh good. You're awake, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Recovering from his coughing fit, Ron pushed away the potion being held to his lips and turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway.  
  
Both of them pointedly ignored Miss Pomfrey's frown of disapproval.  
  
"He's well enough to speak with me for a moment, Poppy?"  
  
The woman wrinkled her nose in what seemed to be an angry fashion. "Well, yes, I suppose he _could_ sit up for a bit. But I wouldn't recommend it."  
  
The old wizard strode across the room, pulled a chair close to Ron's cot, and sat. "Thank you, Poppy. I'll be quick about it." The nurse left the room hurriedly, a door slamming loudly behind her.  
  
Ron took a deep, calming breath before using his elbows to hoist himself up to a sitting position. Harry had told the redhead about the several talks he'd had with Dumbledore throughout the years. It seemed each one brought more and more bad news. He hoped this wouldn't be one of those talks, though he doubted immensely that it wouldn't be.  
  
"Is Draco alright?" It was the first thing that came to mind. The first thing that seemed appropriate to ask, but once he realized he'd said it, Weasley very nearly turned as red as a tomato. Damn was it hard for him to hide embarrassment.  
  
Dumbledore's first reaction was to look very surprised, though he soon reverted to just having an odd twinkle in his eye. "He's fine, Mr. Weasley. I believe he'll be visiting you shortly, if Madam Pomfrey permits him to."  
  
"Just wondering," said Ron, hoping that he was at least successfully hiding the twinge of disappointment he felt. Why would Draco _want_ to see him? He'd acted like such a wimp last night. He'd cried! What was he thinking when he'd assumed Draco must like him? No one would ever like a blubbering fool like him.  
  
"Now, about the events of last night, Mr. Weasley..." Ron told the Headmaster everything that had happened. He told him about he and Draco overhearing him telling Hagrid to "keep an eye" on someone that first night of vacation. He told him about seeing Macnair out on the Quidditch Pitch. About sneaking off at night to get something to eat. About meeting up with Draco and eventually getting hit in the chest with a spell. About Harvey, Ginny, and Fake Draco, and the broom... everything. With the exception of some more personal details. Dumbledore certainly didn't need to know about _that_. It was apparent that nothing was going to become of the odd moments he and Draco had been sharing, anyhow.  
  
"What about Macnair? What's going to happen to him?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head, looking upset. "I don't know."  
  
Ron blinked. "You don't know? What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm afraid young Mr. Macnair has...disappeared."  
  
There was a brief moment of silence in which Ron stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Disappeared? People didn't just disappear from Hogwarts. Especially certain son-of-a-Death-Eater evil people who'd tried to kill him. What about the no-apparation barrier? What about everything that was written down in "Hogwarts, A History"? The redhead blinked again. "Huh?"  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ron thought the old man was probably wishing for a lemon drop. "John Macnair has disappeared. Once Professor Snape and I had located the three of you boys in the forest, we immediately reinforced Mr. Malfoy's spells and took John into custody. While both you and Mr. Malfoy were here in the infirmary I myself was keeping an eye on the boy, trying to figure out what I was going to do with him. I mean, him being only eleven, and his father already in custody-"  
  
"So you knew?" Ron cut the Headmaster off, realizing it was a rather stupid question after he'd asked it. Of course Dumbledore had known John was a Death Eater's son. He was _Dumbledore_, after all. He'd probably wanted to give John a chance, or some nonsense like that. He was a Death Eater's son. How could any good come of him?  
  
Weasley bit at his dry lower lip, flashes of last night coming back to him. Then again, he supposed not all Death Eater's sons were pure evil...  
  
"Yes, I knew. And as I was saying, I was watching Mr. Macnair myself. He simply disappeared. Poof, and he was gone." The Headmaster frowned. "I'm guessing Tom had something to do with this."  
  
"Tom?" A pause. "Oh. You-Know-Who." So Voldemort had John now. The Dark Lord had broken through Hogwarts' security just to get back an eleven-year-old boy. Why take such drastic measures? There was no point. It wasn't as if Voldemort cared about his people's welfare. Unless, of course, John had known something. "He's got a plan. He's going to do something."  
  
"I know," said Dumbledore, nodding. And the Headmaster didn't have to ask to figure out who the 'He' was.  
  
A soft knock startled them both. They turned to find Draco standing in the doorway. The blonde was dressed in a dark, tight-fitting sweater and a light-colored, slightly baggy pair of slacks.  
  
"Ah! Mr. Malfoy, you're back. Good, good. Mr. Weasley and I were just finishing up." Albus stood and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Feel better soon, Mr. Weasley." He crossed the room, stepped around Malfoy, and was gone.  
  
"Hey." Draco looked almost nervous. He took a deep breath, headed towards Ron, and took the seat Dumbledore had vacated. "Feeling okay?"  
  
Ron snorted. "Never better."  
  
An uncomfortable pause ensued. Draco, of all things, fidgeted while Ron tortured himself with the memory of just how idiotic he'd acted the night before.   
  
"Draco," he began, steeling himself. "About last night...Well, you know, it was stupid. The way I acted, I mean." He stopped for a moment to think, only to be cut short.  
  
"Stupid? You didn't act stupid Ron. It wasn't your head I wanted to rip off. It wasn't you trying to kill someone."  
  
Confused, the redhead shook his head. "But I thought you'd be disgusted. I thought, maybe..." He trailed off, hands curling into fists.  
  
"You thought wrong. Here." A small package wrapped in festive paper was placed beside him. Surprised, Ron picked it up. "It's a little early, but, Happy Christmas anyway."  
  
"Christmas? Oh, but I didn't get you anything, Draco." Ron was feeling incredibly happy, anxious, and embarrassed all at the same time. This must mean what he was thinking it meant. Draco actually...cared for him?  
  
"Well, I don't blame you. You _were_ kinda' unconscious this morning. You can just get me something later." He was smirking that oh-so-Malfoy smirk, and Ron found he didn't hate it quite so much anymore.  
  
"So that's where you were when I woke up? That's what Dumbledore meant when he said you were back?"  
  
Draco just shrugged, looking impatient. "Open it."  
  
/Weird./ In a daze, he ripped away the paper. /Really weird./  
  
"Holy shit."   
  
The blonde frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."  
  
Ron smiled. "No, it's great. Just...wow." The redhead found he couldn't quite think clearly. In his hands were the very rare Agrippa and Ptolemy cards, brand new and specially packaged. And all thanks to one Draco Malfoy, his former enemy.   
  
Weasley looked up, surprised to see the other teen wizard looking slightly embarrassed. "No big deal," said Draco, and Ron took the time to look at that blonde hair, those incredible light eyes....  
  
He leaned towards the platinum-haired wizard and soon they were kissing a heated, wet kiss. So what if they'd be going back to classes, and cliques, and Professors soon? So what if Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son? So what if Voldemort had something up his sleeve? They'd deal with all of that in time. None of that mattered now. None of it mattered at all.  
  
It was a long time before they stopped to breathe. 


	15. Epilogue

Breaking The Stone  
  
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
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"Ginny? Hey, Ginny are you listening?"  
  
"Hmm?" The youngest Weasley sibling brushed a tendril of bright, red hair from the way of her eyes and turned to see Neville Longbottom giving her a searching look. "Oh, sorry Neville. What were you saying?"  
  
It was the first day back from vacation. The House tables were full of chattering teenagers, all anxious and horrified at the prospect of classes beginning again. At the Ravenclaw table sat Harvey Williams, deeply engrossed in the process of stuffing his face. He gave a nervous glance in the direction of the Famous Trio before sticking a bit of toast into his mouth. Just a few days before both he and Ginny had decided on being "just friends". However, personally, the redhead would've liked to have stayed with Harvey longer, if only in order to find out just what he was hiding about Ron and Draco. And Ginny was positive he was hiding something.  
  
Nodding absently, just so Neville would think she was still listening to his rants (something about making a mess of midterm projects) the fourth year shifted her gaze just in time to catch site of Harry's trio passing by Draco and the Slytherin gang's table. The members of the rival Houses seemed to hold their breath for a moment. But nothing happened. Except, maybe, for a brief game of "stare down" between Draco and Ron. But not even that was very intense, and the moment soon passed.  
  
/I wonder.../ Ginny tapped her fingernails on the surface of the table as she thought. /They're acting really odd./  
  
Oh well. Maybe it wasn't _so_ odd. After all, they'd been stalked by a killer all winter break, and now that John was missing Dumbledore had asked all who were involved with the Macnair situation to keep quiet about it. Ginny guessed they deserved to act a little off.  
  
"....About you? Did you have a boring time around Hogwarts all break?" She blinked, catching the tail end of Neville's question. "Too bad. Nothing exciting went on, eh?"  
  
"No," said Ginny, staring wonderingly towards the Slytherin table. Had Draco just flashed a genuine _smile_ at the vanishing figure of Ron?   
  
"Nothing at all." 


End file.
